


The changeling

by Wisslan



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Alcohol, Drugs, Explicit Language, M/M, Mafias, Magic-Users, Magical Creatures, Mild Gore, Murder Mystery, Original Character Death(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Urban Magic AU, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 14:56:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10879164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wisslan/pseuds/Wisslan
Summary: Okay, okay bare with me here! This is an Urban magic AU, I will explain more in character notes.John was alone in the world. He had no one, everyone either gave him up or got sick of him. There was always something wrong with him, can he ever belong?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Okay, the underage stuff is George being 16 in this story, just fyi.) 
> 
> SO this story is an Urban AU, taking place when they were young in Liverpool around the 50's, early sixties. Magic is real and hidden away, a lot of it will be explained along the way so just sit back and explore this new and exiting world with John as your partner in crime and George and Paul as your beloved guides! 
> 
> This is going to be long, dark. Ringo will come, but it might take a few chapters.  
> Comments are dearly appriciated! <3

John clutched the keys in one hand whilst the other was occupied by a box of his stuff. With the help of one knee he managed to get the door open and step into the empty apartment. Finally, a place of his own. The move itself hadn’t been one of his best ideas maybe. The only piece of furniture his aunt had allowed him to bring was his record player and his bed. Mostly because he had bought that damn record player himself, and Mimi had very well caught him wanking in that bed in the middle of the night, or in the morning. Thankfully the bed had already been moved to the apartment by two of John’s friends whom had borrowed their dad’s car and driven it as well as helped him haul it up four floors and into the small bedroom. The place only had one room, the kitchen was separated by a half wall and some change in the tiles but John was excited none the less. His first apartment! Who wouldn’t be excited? John took a deep breath, taking in the slightly mouldy and shut in smell of the place before kicking his shoes off at the door and walking into the bedroom. He put his box of stuff down on the bed and then headed out into the hallway for the other two boxes. One of them was filled with all his clothing and the other was more miscellaneous crap and his beloved record player. He hauled both boxes into the bedroom and began unpacking everything. It honestly wasn’t much. His guitar was laid on the bed, the record player got plugged into the nearest socket. He didn’t have a table for it so he had to rest it on the ground and put all his LP’s in a colourful pile next to it. He pulled out his books as well and made another neat pile. His first priority was to get a bookcase, or maybe a table for the record player. Or a sofa, yeah a sofa would be nice. Maybe a radio as well. John was buzzing with energy as he pulled out a Little Richard LP and put it on the player. He grinned as Tutti Frutti started playing and hummed along with the tunes.

He spent the rest of his day in the apartment, not doing anything in particular. He played through five LP’s, read a few chapters from Lolita and then laid on the floor in the living area, smoking a cigarette towards the flaky ceiling, watching the fumes evaporate into nothingness before it even his the flakes. When the sun set he decided to head out for the evening and soon enough found himself down at a pub with a few of his friends. They talked, laughed and offered John some beer considering that he had spent his last few dimes on the apartment.

“Here mate, get yourself a beer if you bring me one.” Ian told him and handed him a bill. John grinned and gave him a wink, heading off to the bar.

He slid onto one of the barstools and leaned his elbows against the countertop, trying to catch the bartenders eye with just his own. Since he was in no rush he let the game drag on, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Whoever it was had slim, long fingers that curled around the muscle under his leatherjacket and squeezed hard enough to let John know that this was no girl who was trying to hit him up. John turned his head and met the eyes of the offender. It was a boy not much younger than himself but young enough to not look like he legally belonged in a bar. He had giant eyebrows that hung low on his face and wavy hair laid across his forehead neatly. The lad was similarly dressed to John with a leather jacket and drainpipes.

“Alright?” John hummed, raising an eyebrow at the stranger.

“Ello.” His accent was heavy and voice low. “Are you here alone?”

“No.” John replied and looked to where his mates were sitting. Someone had apparently just cracked a joke because they were sent into howls of laughter. “I’m with them.”

“Ah.” The younger lad said and his hand slipped away from John’s shoulder. His eyes searched the room, scouting all the scandalously dressed girls and the guys trying to take them home until he spotted someone else who looked lonely, off in a corner. His eyes came back to John and he stepped a little closer to make sure that no one was listening. “I really like your jacket.”

His long fingers came back to trail across the zipper. John looked at the boy, there was something special about him but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

“Can I buy you a drink?” The lad suddenly asked.

“Are you old enough to buy a drink?” John tossed back at him. The young boy scowled but then grinned and slid onto the stool next to him.

“They don’t care here.” The boy breathed. “What do you say?”

“I don’t have any money.” John stated, turning back to the bartender who still hadn’t spotted him.

“I’m not selling.” The lad sounded almost offended and he raised one of his overgrown eyebrows. This caught John’s attention again.

“No?” He asked.

“I’m all free, baby.” The boy breathed. “George.”

“John.” John replied and suddenly George was grabbing his wrist and pulling him along. The older followed blindly and let George lead him out of the bar and onto the heated, summer street. George took him just around the corner where the setting sun had already left its dark shadows and no one could see the dirty couple.

Before John had a second to comprehend the situation, George’s mouth was on his mouth and the younger lad was pinning him to the wall. John moaned in surprise but soon melted into the soft lips kissing him. He tangled his hands into George’s hair and sucked the other’s bottom lip into his mouth.

George hissed lightly and let his hands wander inside of John’s jacket, feeling all the muscles on his back and then trailing them up to cup his face. The older boy felt like melting, he hadn’t expected such soft touches from someone who just picked him up from a bar but here he was, face cradled between two large, warm hands, soft lips pressing against his and a nimble body holding him to the wall.

Slowly George let go of John’s lips and moved his mouth down the other’s jaw. He let his nose run against the clean shaven jawline and then trail down from his ear and over his jugular. John could feel George’s warm breath on him and he tugged at his silky locks, urging him on. George grinned and opened his mouth, closing his lips around John’s neck and sucking on the heated skin, feeling the blood pulse in the thick vein. It was too bad really, John was beautiful and he’d be wasted, but George needed to eat, maybe he wouldn’t empty him… The younger lad licked across the spot he had decided to go for. John’s taste was sending tingles down his body and he closed his eyes, grazing his teeth against the taut skin and then suddenly piercing him with his fangs.

John’s whole body flinched and he grabbed onto George’s clothes. White, hot pleasure surged through him, coming from his neck and he let out a gargled wail of protest. Slowly the pain turned to pleasure and he relaxed into George’s arms, panting slightly and lolling his head to the side, giving George more access. This proved to have reversed resulting action as George wrenched his teeth away from John, blood covering his entire mouth and teeth hanging low. He frowned at the older lad who was leaning against him, rubbing himself up against George’s hip. He let out a whine, clutching onto George harder and letting a hand trail in under the neck of George’s shirt, feeling the hot skin of his back. This was not supposed to happen. George licked up the trail of blood escaping from John’s neck and kissed and licked the wound quickly so it would stop bleeding. He then pushed the other body away from him and stepped back. John’s eyes were heavy and dark with lust as he watched George, vaguely registering that the younger’s mouth was covered in blood and that sharp points of teeth were visible in his mouth.

“What the fuck are you?” George barked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and glaring at John, receiving a dumb “huh?” as a reply. “I asked! What the fuck are you? You’re not human!”

John flinched at those words and eased out of his love struck state. His eyes focused on George and saw that his eyes had gone deep red and his lips were still stained red.

“Did you bite me?” John managed to get out. His hand came to rest over the spot where George mere minutes ago had been attached by his mouth and teeth.

“Yeah, I’m a vampire you daft git.” George spat. “Now what the hell are you? You ain’t human!”

“Fucking hell is that supposed to mean?” John asked, feeling a pool of worry settle in his stomach. “There’s no such thing as vampires either!”

“I just sucked your blood mate.” George huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you some kind of fae?”

“I’m not a fucking fairy.” John growled and stepped away from the wall he had been previously pressed up against. “Now get the fuck out!”

George gave John an unimpressed stare and then shook his head. He licked the last traces of blood away from his lips and let his teeth shoot back into his mouth. With that he turned on his heel and marched out of the alley. John blinked a few times, head bubbling with worry. If this kid could tell that he wasn’t human, then who else knew? Was George an outcast like him? Was he different too?

“Hey, wait!” John ran out of the alley. George stopped, just about to enter the bar again. He rested his hands against the door and looked back at John. “A-Are you for real? A vampire, for real?”

The statement earned John a few strange stares from onlookers and George flinched, rushing back to the boy he had recently tried to kill and eat in an alley.

“You can’t just blurt things like that out onto the street.” George hissed. “People will think that you’re mad! Do you honesty not know anything? Don’t answer that. Come on, where do you live?”

“A few blocks down.” John replied.

“Take me there and I’ll explain everything.” George said and pushed his hands down his pockets. John nodded dumbly and started walking towards his apartment, forgetting his friends at the bar in order of taking George home.

The walk was silent, uneventful and it didn’t take them very long to reach the apartment. John guided him up the four floors and put his key in the lock to his new apartment, leading George in and closing the door behind him.

“Nice decorating, very sparse.” George said as he kicked his shoes off and walked further in, uninvited. John looked after him and gave it a few seconds before he noted the sarcasm.

“It’s called modern, these days.” John bit back and followed George out into the living area, which was empty. The younger boy sat down on the floor and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. John sat down next to him and watched as George lit it and put the stick to his lips, taking a drag. John frowned lightly at George, he had never seen that kind of cigarette and to his surprise, when George blew the smoke out again, it was purple. “What’s that?”

“You really don’t get out much do you?” George passed him a cigarette and held out the lighter for him. “These are cigarettes that won’t kill you.”

“Cigarettes can’t kill you anyway.” John accepted the cigarette and put it between his lips, letting George light it for him and then taking a drag. It tasted sweet and warm, nothing like the dry taste of normal cigarettes.

“Are you a changeling, John?” George suddenly asked and John choked on the smoke in his mouth, coughing it up in purple clouds. He looked over at George who was puffing on the cigarette in his mouth. His eyes weren’t red anymore, they had gone back to their normal colour. He didn’t seem oppressive or disgusted by the fact that John wasn’t human.

“So what about it?” John curled up a bit, wrapping an arm around his knees.

“Called it.” George said in triumph. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not a good thing.” John muttered. “People don’t want changelings, I’m a freak. Why’d I go around and yell that on the streets?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a changeling.” George said softly and John glanced over at him, meeting his eyes cautiously. “Did your families not like you?”

“I don’t know my original parents. But my dad left, me mum died and my aunt hated me. She was ashamed of me being a changeling and she told me that not even my original family wanted me.” John muttered and rested his chin on his arms, taking another drag from the cigarette in his mouth and puffing the smoke out around his face. “My family left little books for me and she took them and burnt them all. I could only save one.”

“Do you know the name of it?” George asked.

“It doesn’t have a title but it’s filled with spells and magic stuff.” John huffed. “Bullocks all of it. There’s no magic.”

“Have you ever tried?” The younger asked and John scoffed.

“No. My aunt would have sent me off if she so much as found out that I had kept that book.” John uncurled himself and laid down on his back, staring up at the ceiling. There were mould in the corners, he should probably get that checked out.

“You should.” George finished his cigarette, still sitting. “I don’t know what type of changeling you are. I don’t think you are fae, definitely not a troll and not an elf. Maybe you’re a witch and that’s why your family has been sending you spell books?”

“I’m a witch?” John laughed to himself. “My nose ain’t that pointy, and I think I’ll need to grow a wart for that to work. Maybe get a cat?”

“Very funny.” George shook his head. “Well, I need to go. It’s getting late and I need to eat tonight.”

“There’s restaurants open all night, mate.” John hummed around the cigarette burning on its last fumes in his mouth.

“I’m a vampire, John.” George scoffed. “I can’t eat whatever I want. Well, I’ll see you around, I guess.”

George left the apartment, leaving a rather confused and overwhelmed John Lennon to question his existence on the floor of his new apartment. This was not quite how he envisioned this day to go but he would be lying if he said that meeting George hadn’t been an experience. Fuck, he had forgot to ask the lad where he got the cigarette from. He’d definitely want a few more.

 

John’s days passed in a grey blur. Most days he earned his daily bread down at the bookshop, owned by an old man with a massive beard and even bigger temper. John loved his job but hated the manager and he felt that the manager had the same thoughts about him. But thankfully, the owner’s wife was fond of him and almost forced the owner to let John stay and work.

It was just a small, dusty corner shop with walls covered in dark, wooden bookcases and old classics, John read them all. Since there weren’t many customers during his shift he spent it reading or cleaning the shelves until the occasional customer stepped in to look through the endless titles that could be found amongst the shelves.

He bought his food cheap and spent the rest on booze, cigarette and women. The pennies left from his nightly adventures were put into an old jam jar. He was saving up for a couch since his apartment was still empty apart from the kitchen and bathroom which were installed, his bed and all the minor items. Sometimes, in the dead of night he’d sit on his bed, wielding the little books of spells which his family had left him all those years ago. The edges were worn down and someone had spilt something in it. John would flip through all the pages, shivering at the horrid drawing descripting how to conquer up the spells and the effects of the spells. But even with all the forbidden spells and magic, the most interesting thing of all were the little doodles and scribbles littered around the book. There was something very endearing about reading what the last owner had written down, crude little remarks about the spells or certain guidelines on how to make the spells stronger. It made John wonder who had been the former owner of the book. His mother? His father? Did he have siblings who might have owned this book before him? He rubbed one of the inked inscriptions on one of the pages with his thumb, a fond smile on his face. What if he had a big family? With a bunch of happy siblings, parents who loved him and accepted him. What if they were out there still? John secretly hoped that they were happy, with or without him. He hoped that they were warm, loved and didn’t have to go hungry when there were no coins left at the end of the month.

John laid back against the bed, holding the book against his chest. He couldn’t let his mind drift too far. Getting lost in one’s own head never was any good, especially not for John. Sadness would overpower him and leave him useless for days. He closed his eyes, letting sleep wash over him in waves.

“Hey John we are going out.” Ian and Neil were at his door. John was stood inside, finishing out his half assed dinner, which was canned soup, still in the can because bowls were expensive.

“Alright, give a man a warning!” John said and slurped down the last few spoons of broth and hacked vegetables. “I have just started on my three course feast!”

He turned back into the kitchen to chuck the can and spoon into the growing mountain of utensils and trash in the sink before going back to the door and putting his shoes on.

“Well hopefully we can make it up to you.” Neil said and held out a picnic basket. John’s stomach growled at the mere smell coming from the basket and hurried to get dressed before joining the other two out of the door.

They walked in the late summer sun through the city and all the way to the hills and woods on the outskirts. John followed his two friends into the woods and over until they found a hill basking in the red sun and decided to plonk down there for their picnic.

Ian opened the basket he was carrying and deployed a bottle of whisky, jelly babies and other various types of candy. The three teenagers dug in immediately, feasting on alcohol and candy whilst the sun set behind the hills. Their voices and crude jokes ran through the air, disturbing all the woodland creatures and whatever else could be hiding in the woods. Neither of them cared, they were happy.

“I’ve gotta piss.” John suddenly announced and jumped to his feet. Neil was laying on the ground, staring at the red flames in the sky and giggling to himself at a rude tale John had told about a girl he had taken home from a pub. Ian took swig from the bottle he was so dearly clutching and nodded towards him.

John walked down the hill and into the woods. He stood himself up against a tree he found suitable for its purpose and started fiddling with his fly when suddenly, he heard a noise coming from deeper within the forest. It was something melodic, like a guitar. John frowned and zipped his pants up, pissing be damned. Who was playing the bloody guitar in the forest? There it was! The noise, he heard it again. He stopped to listen for a moment, he knew that song. Someone was playing Roll over Beethoven. Someone was playing Chuck Berry in the middle of the woods and John needed to find out who it was. So off he walked, further into the forest, following the soft strumming of a guitar until he reached a river.

It was a pretty sight. A rippling, cold stream off water, complete with a small waterfall leading out from in between a couple of boulders. Trees hung low over the river, light green leaves letting through thin streams of light to bounce down on the water and the boulder located in the middle of the water. On the boulder a boy was sat. He was nude, round cheeked and his modesty was neatly covered by a guitar. John quickly hid behind a tree, watching the strange idiot who was naked in the woods and playing Chuck Berry on the guitar. A woven crown of flowers and leaves were sat on top of long dark locks and John found himself thinking that the lad was beautiful. There was just something very sweet about him, something blissfully romantic. John couldn’t help but be entranced by the boy and found himself stepping out of his hiding spot and slowly walking towards the riverbank. The boy looked up and sent John a warm smile, continuing to play.

John smiled back and continued walking. He felt the cold water hit his ankles but he kept walking.

“Hey no stop!” The playing stopped and John came to. He blinked a few times and then shuddered. He was standing to his waist in the water. When the hell had he gotten that far out? And why had he been so stupid to step into the freezing water anyway? “I’m not doing this to you, back away.”

“What did you do?” John gasped, a shiver running through his body. He backed away from the boy on the rock and backed his way onto shore again.

“I’m sorry.” The boy said softly. “I should have stopped playing when I saw you. I am The Neck, I live in this river.”

“The what?” John sat down in the grass by the river and tugged off his shoes. They were filled with water and he hoped to god that they weren’t ruined for good.

“The Neck.” The boy said again. “I come from up north and I play in rivers to lure people to me. I usually drown them but I couldn’t drown you. Are you a fae?”

That was the second time in a period of two weeks that John had been asked if he was a fairy. Is this another one of those crazy creatures? He had met George the vampire not long ago and discovered that he himself was a changeling. Now this guy was something called The Neck?

“No, I’m not.” John muttered. “I’m a changeling.”

“Oh.” The boy replied and shifted to turn his body more towards John. Thankfully the guitar stayed firmly in place. “You don’t look like a troll. Were your mother a witch?”

“I don’t know, stop prying.” John snapped and the boy frowned. “Why the hell were you playing Chuck Berry?”

“I was hiding in the waterfall when a group of teenagers came by. They had a guitar and played the song, I only copied what I heard. Sadly I only know the first verse.” The boy said. “Did you like the song?”

“Who doesn’t?” John asked as he took off his other shoe and poured out the water that was residing inside. He placed them aside and then looked back at the boy on the rock. Their eyes met and John found himself not wanting to look away.

“What’s your name?” The boy asked. His eyes shining with curiosity.

“John.” He replied curtly.

“I’m Paul.” The boy said with a smile. “Paul McCartney. You talked about a Chuck Berry, do you know if he has written more songs?”

They ended up talking until the sun had set completely and John found himself shivering from cold and letting a few yawns escape him. He promised Paul to be back since he had Mondays off and then he was off. He found his friends packing up the picnic stuff, well Neil was packing. Ian was too drunk so he was “helping” by being the entertainment and singing Ode to Joy at the top of his lungs.

“Where have you been?” Neil asked when John came back. “And what the hell, you’re soaking?”

“I got lost and fell into the river.” John lied. He didn’t feel like telling Neil that he met a naked boy who played Chuck Berry in the river and was obnoxiously funny to talk with. “Let’s go back, my balls will freeze off.”

They trudged home together. John with his hands stuck down the wet pockets on his jeans and trying to not shiver at every little breeze which crossed him. When he got home he wrenched himself out of the cold wet clothing and stuffed it all in the bathtub before putting on every soft thing he owned and crawled in under the covers on his bed.

As promised he returned to Paul in the river the day after. How he managed to find his way back was a miracle but he managed and he spent most of his day at the riverbank, talking to the boy about everything he could imagine. Apparently Paul came from a middle class family and he had once lived a normal life. His mother had been a siren and his father had been human, thus creating the bit of mess that was Paul McCartney. Sirens weren’t apparently supposed to fall in love and doing so hurt them so deeply that they could not take it. Paul’s mother had passed away at the age of fourteen and his father had become so mad that he had hunted Paul, who showed signs of being a siren out of the house. Paul had thankfully found an old nymph out in the forest who had taught him the ways off the siren. She had also told him that there were no male sirens and that Paul probably was a descendant of The Neck.

When they got bored of simply being apart and talking, Paul suggested that they’d go swimming. John had agreed and this time taken all of his clothes expect his underwear off and joined Paul in the water. They played around and swam about until John grew cold again. Paul magically didn’t get cold and he joined John in sunbathing on the riverbank once they were done in the water. John had blushed a bit and thrown his jeans over Paul’s crotch. He didn’t need to see that on someone he had just met.

“Do you like living out here?” John asked as he stretched out under the sun, letting the warmth heat up his wet skin. “Doesn’t it get lonely?”

“It’s alright but pretty lonely, yeah.” Paul agreed. “Is the city nice? Been a while since I lived there after all.”

“I live on my own, it’s a bit lonely there too.” John turned his head to look towards Paul.

“You don’t think, I could come and live with you?” Paul asked and grinned at John. “I mean, we are both lonely and motherless and we are both magical creatures.”

“I don’t have much space, nor money.” John studied Paul’s face. He had known the bloke for about a day but he had already grown on him. Who could blame him? He had such charisma and such a pretty face. It was hard not to talk and like him but still, moving in with someone was a big deal.

“You forget that I can play guitar, and lure people into the water with it. I’m pretty sure I can play and make people give me money.” Paul said. “Come on, please?”

John thought about it for a few seconds. He had been thinking of getting a roommate for a while but never gone through with it and here Paul was, offering himself to move in and also bring in money.

“Sure, why the hell not.” John found himself saying and Paul’s grin widened. “On one condition!”

“Yeah, hit me.” Paul said and sat up, eyes locked down on John.

“You’ve got to wear clothes.” John said and Paul groaned. “None of that! You have to at least wear underwear around the house.”

“Fine, fine.” Paul agreed to the condition and John stuck his hand out. They grabbed each other’s hands and shook on it, both grinning from ear to ear.

John got dressed and left shortly after that. He rushed his way to the apartment and pulled out clothes that he could bring home Paul in. Settling on a simple tshirt, and jeans he laid them out on the bottom of his bed. Where would Paul sleep? They’d have to share a bed probably, John really hadn’t thought this true but something in his heart wanted Paul to be near, something he couldn’t explain. He just really needed Paul to be near him. The boy was surrounded by the same lightness which George was. John liked to imagine that it was magic, but it couldn’t. There was no such thing as magic and still, Paul had spelled him out in the water with his guitar.

He walked out to the kitchen from the bedroom and opened his pantry. He pulled out the last can of beans that he had standing in there. John found himself staring down at the colourful yellow label. He wouldn’t have food for tomorrow if he ate it now, but his stomach was grumbling and his head was feeling heavy. John found himself thinking about Paul again. The poor lad wouldn’t have anything to eat if John took the beans now, no he better save them for tomorrow. With a protesting stomach, he put the beans back in the pantry and closed the door, quickly turning around and heading into his bedroom where he spent the last hours of the day playing his guitar.

 

John woke up the next morning and felt like his nose would fall off. It was so stuffy and his face hurt, his skin burnt, even so, he made it out of bed. His body trembling and radiating sickness everywhere. God damn it, this was the last thing he needed, especially today. Still he got dressed for the day in the outfit he wore yesterday and grabbed the clothes he was going to get Paul into. He clutched them to his chest, stomach growling as he exited his apartment and headed for the river.

When he got there he heard Paul instantly. He was playing his guitar but it wasn’t Chuck Berry. It was a romantic melody of some kind and John stepped in behind a tree, for he had not heard that melody before. Gently he peeked out from behind the tree and saw Paul on his rock as usual, only he had company. There was a girl wading out into the water. She had dark locks falling down to rest on her shoulders and was dressed in a pretty summer dress decorated with pink and blue flowers. She was beautiful, even if John couldn’t see her face but she was walking further and further out into the water. Paul was smiling gently at her, if John didn’t know better he’d say the smile was loving.

The water had drenched her body now, only her head was sticking up. A horrible feeling settled into John’s gut, she was going to die. Paul was going to drown the girl. He turned away from the scene and slid down against the tree, settling onto the mossy ground and listening to the faint gargling sound from the girl and then a horrid crack. John didn’t dare to look, he didn’t want to. Paul had told him all about his magic, how he lured people out and drowned them. At the moment John had been too entranced with Paul to actually understand what he was saying. Now he only felt slightly sick, maybe it was because of the cold, fever or whatever bug had hit him but he felt himself hunch over on all fours and throw up, before he collapsed onto his side, sight blurring.

John didn’t know for how long he laid on the ground but too much time couldn’t have passed until a pair of bare feet shuffled in front of his eyes and a muffled version of his name reached his ears. A bit of shuffling happened and then John felt arms slide in underneath his back and knees, he was picked up into a strong embrace and cradled closely.

“What’s your address?” Broke through John’s clouded mind and he found himself mumbling the address to his apartment and then whoever had picked him up, Paul, John secretly hoped started walking.

He barely remembered anything about the journey back to his house other than blacking out a few times. For someone who had never been in the town before, Paul certainly knew his way around and they made it to the apartment in one piece. Paul stood John down by his side with an arm wrapped around his waist, holding him close. A hand sneaked its way into John’s pockets, digging around and fishing out a key when found. Paul guided him inside and John could faintly hear him huff at the interior before leading him into the bedroom and laying him down on the bed present in the room. That’s when John’s body completely refused to cooperate and he fell asleep.

John woke up later when someone propped him up on pillows and gently tapped his cheek until he groaned and opened his heavy eyes. The certain someone who had awoken him from his dreamless slumber was sat on the edge of the bed. Everything was a bit blurry and everything hurt, and he was so cold. A cool hand laid itself against his heated forehead and he let out a slight moan at the feeling.

“You’re burning up.” The husky voice of Paul said and John relaxed a little. Something about Paul eased his foul mood. “You will probably need some medicine, and you have no food. What on earth are you playing at, John?”

“Beans.” John mumbled. “Got beans.”

“You said that yesterday too.” Paul sounded almost scolding. “Didn’t you eat those yesterday like you said?”

“No, for you.” John mumbled. He was tired and let his eyes slip closed again.

“For me?” Paul asked with a sigh. “Were you saving those for me? Dammit, John. You didn’t eat anything yesterday and you swam the night before that. No wonders you’re sick! Well beans will do you no good, I’m going out to get you food.”

“No money.” John mumbled sleepily.

“Well I wasn’t asking about money.” Paul said and stood up. “You stay in bed. I’ll tie you down if you don’t”

With that threat, Paul left the room, grabbed his guitar and left the apartment. He strapped the guitar to his back and went on his way, leaving John on his own and venturing out into the dense city. Paul looked around at all the merry people going about their day before finding a street corner and sitting down on the heated pavement. He picked his guitar up and placed it on his laugh, strumming a few notes and then playing melodically, singing along to whatever song he was playing.

As suspected, people were entranced by his music and came to watch. Kids tugged on their mothers’ hands, begging for coins they could throw at him. Paul watched in delight as the ladies reached into their purse and pulled out a few coins for the kids to give to Paul. Shy, chubby little fingers placed coins by his feet and he nodded his grateful thanks to them.

Once he had played about two songs and the sun was getting to his head, he decided to count his coins and figures it would be enough for soup for John. He thanked the crowd which had gathered around him and took all the money before raising to his feet and walking off. The guitar stuck firmly to his back.

Paul walked into the nearest supermarket and grabbed a few cans of soup and some other food items that John would probably need. Once done, he walked to the checkout and paid for it all with the money he had earned from playing on the street.

The walk back to John’s house under the hot sun was uneventful. He strode along, minding his own business all the way to the apartment complex and up to the fourth floor. He walked inside and dumped his guitar by the door before taking a quick look into the bedroom. John was fast asleep.

The older boy woke up to the sound of rustling and a soft cooing of his name. He opened his eyes just in time to feel a pair of hand sunder his armpits, lifting him up into a sitting position. He grunted and swatted at Paul, the intruder. He didn’t need no babying. The younger lad just chuckled and sat down on the bed. John could smell something musty and warm. Whatever it was it made his stomach rumble and he looked over at Paul. The younger boy held a bowl of soup in his hand. His mouth watered at the sight of the noodles and pieces of chicken swimming around in the clear broth.

“When did you?” John asked quietly. His voice was both stuffy and raspy. It hurt his throat to speak and he let out a cough to clear it. Paul gave him a kind smile and scooped up some soup with the spoon.

“Whilst you slept.” Paul replied and held the spoon to John’s lips. The poor lad was so hungry he didn’t even refuse being fed. He just obediently opened his mouth and accepted the chicken soup. “I lured people with my music and they gave me some money so I stocked you up on some food. Considering I am going to live here with you we better have some proper food.”

Joh hummed something, too focused on slurping down on the bowl of warm soup, feeling it settle comfortably in his belly. Once the bowl was empty, John licked his lips and laid back against the pillows again. Maybe bringing Paul along wasn’t so bad, other than the fact that he had… John gulped and looked over at The Neck, taking in her cherubic face, long eyelashes and full lips. He didn’t look like a vicious killer who lured people into the water to drown them. But he had to ask, maybe the girl wasn’t dead?

“Paul?” John let out. Paul hummed and looked down at him. He fiddled with the blankets and pulled them higher over John’s body. “Down at the river this morning. I saw you with a bird.”

“Yeah?” Paul’s hands slowly retracted from the blankets he was tucking in around John and he gave him a wary look.

“Did you kill her?” John asked. Paul looked down at him for a few seconds, searching his face for prejudice or judgement.

“Yes?” Paul replied slowly, tasting every letter bitterly in his mouth. John let a shaky breath escape from his lips. He then nodded and closed his eyes, not wanting to discuss it further.

 

John still had a heavy cold when he went to work the day after but his fever was gone, which meant he headed to work, did his day and then headed home to Paul whom always went out, played for money and headed back home. Each day when John came home he’d walk over to the “couch jar” and see it fill up, coins and papers being added every day.

Sleeping arrangements had been made, those nights when they were both home which still were rather rare. John took the bed and Paul slept on blankets on the floor or vice versa. Usually though, Paul would go out at night, back down to his river to spend the night. John couldn’t wait to have the couch since it meant that Paul would have less reasons to go to the river and do whatever the hell he did down there. They didn’t talk about it much. John didn’t want to and Paul wasn’t prone to sharing any details.

Life was peaceful, life was calm. Until one day, John came home, dropped a few coins into the couch jar and then spotted Paul on the empty living room floor, his spell book in hand. Where the hell had he found that? John was a hundred percent sure that he had hid that away.

“What are you doing?” He asked and Paul looked up from the page he was reading nonchalantly. He was dressed in nothing but a pair of jeans, as usual. John was almost sure that Paul had taken the freedom of not wearing underwear. He said that they were too sweaty.

“I’m reading.” Paul replied and then turned back to the book, trailing his finger along one of the pages, reading along.

“It’s mine!” John said and stepped over, standing in front of him and glaring down. “I hid it for a fucking reason.”

“And why’s that?” Paul asked and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. Who did Paul think he was? Did he actually believe in all of that magic bullshit? John stared back in disbelief.

“It’s a book full of shit. Childish magic play!” John growled. “It’s not real and it’s mine so hands off!”

“Not real?” Paul asked and got to his feet, towering over John with that inch which bothered the fuck out of John on a daily basis. “Have you ever tried it, Johnny? This is common witchcraft, mostly easy spells and potions. Conjuring, transfiguration, levitation spells. There’s even an invisibility spell. Have you even read this?”

John snatched the book from Paul’s hand with a sour look on his face. He had read it every night from the age of eight, of course he knew every single syllabi, every little hand written note. He could recite it in his bloody sleep. John clutched the book to his chest. Who did Paul think he was?

“You can do amazing things, Johnny.” Paul continued on softly, not minding the killing glare fired right at him. “But not without practise of course and only if you want to. Magic is real if you want it to be. I’ll help you, I promise.”

John was about to reply something witty when the last few words hit him. Paul wasn’t pushing him away for his knowledge of magic and not only that, he believed in it too. He believed that it was real, and that John could use it. Paul believed in him and wanted to help him. The older boy took a deep breath, staring into Paul’s soft, chestnut eyes. No judgement, nothing. Just pure honesty. Paul was going to help him with the magic and let him get closer to his family probably.

“Alright.” John finally agreed. “Alright, I want to do this.”

 

Their plan was put into the workings at midnight. That’s when they climbed up on the roof of the building and sat down together, guided by the glow from the moon and stars. Paul laid out the book in front of him, sitting with his legs crossed underneath him, knees nudging against John’s. It was not necessary to sit that close together but neither boy minded much. It felt more real just to be touching. Paul was still only in his washed out jeans, shirtless and barefoot. John was dressed up in turtleneck, jacket, jeans and shoes. It was the middle of the night! It was cold out!

“Okay let’s do the illuminating spell first.” Paul said slowly and flipped up to the right page. “Okay, you need to focus on what you want whilst snapping your fingers like this.”

Paul did some strange flick-of-the-wrist move and snapped his fingers. John raised an eyebrow and nodded. He closed his eyes and tried to focus hard. He willed it to be real. He wanted magic to be true. He wanted his aunt to be wrong about it all, about him. He willed light to appear. John flicked his wrist and snapped his fingers, before opening his eyes. Nothing. He snapped with his fingers again. Nothing.

“It’s not doing anything.” John muttered.

“Think harder.” Paul urged on. “No one does it on their first try! I believe in you, John.”

John sighed and collected himself. Light, sun, bright, stars, neon, stage lights, Elvis Presley. The thoughts whirled around in his head and he felt something burning deep down in his chest. He flicked his wrist again and snapped with his fingers. Suddenly his entire hand was filled with a delicate sort of burning warmth, it filled up and pushed his fingers apart. His eyes opened in a heartbeat and he stared down at his hand. There was a bright glowing orb there, like a small white version of the sun. It was pleasant to hold. Light as air and soft. He could feel tears brimming his eyes. He had done that, there was magic. It existed, right before his eyes. Just like that, with a snap of his fingers.

“Paulie…” He whispered tenderly. His chest was aching and his throat itched but he held back the sob threatening to come up. John didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“I told you!” Paul exclaimed. “You have it in you, now you only need to practise.”

“Thank you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Her we gooo! I'll be posting these in bulk as far as I've gotten and then update when I get the new chapters

Their apartment was a mess, it had been for so long. Not too long ago they had managed to buy a couch, an old scruffy leather one but it was a couch for three and it was glorious. John and Paul had carried it up all the flights of stairs, leaving two permanent marks in the stairway and one in the hallways of the apartment. When it was finally in place, in the centre of the back wall, it looked oddly out of place in the stale apartment but John and Paul couldn’t be happier. The boys grabbed all the blankets from the bedroom and curled up on the sofa together, guitar in their laps as they played, joked and occasionally fetched beers from the fridge. It might not be perfect but to them it was home.

One of these occurrences started happening a few days after the sofa had been taken into their lives. Well it had been happening before, but only to John and he was too used to it to complain. It was the water. First of all the water always cut out between one in the afternoon and three in the afternoon every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. Why? They didn’t know and the landlord was too drunk to notice the complaint. The second thing was the shower.

“I’m going shower, John!” Paul announced one morning. John was cooking up lunch in the kitchen, a cig hanging from his lips as he salted the food way more than necessary. When Paul received the usual grunt for a reply he grabbed his towel and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. There wasn’t a lock on it but with only two people living in the apartment, that wasn’t much of a problem.

Paul always found their bathroom absolutely gut-wrenching disgusting. He’d rather shit outside than in this putrid room. The mirror had been cracked before Paul moved in so that was John’s doing. Apparently he had hit it with his elbow, when he had tried to shower with a girl of his. Still, the mirror was actionable, it served its purpose. The mould in the roof however and the leaking shower head that John had fixed with electric tape on the other hand. Paul scrunched his nose up at the mould and took a deep breath before stepping into the shower, pulling the curtains around him. They needed replacement for sure. Both John and Paul had agreed that the curtains were mostly see through and it was hanging by its plastic threads to the shower frame. A lot of things did need replacing in this house. Such as the stove. Oh, the stove. Paul squinted his eyes at his own mention of the stove as he turned on the shower head. Cold water started raining over his head and he flinched away from it, momentarily forgetting that the shower took at least two minutes to heat up. Okay, back to the stove. That fucker was the worst! It would randomly turn off when it felt like it, or screw up the heat to maximum. So many burnt meals from that son of a bitch.

The water turned off. Paul opened his eyes, which he hadn’t realised that he had closed whilst in deep thought and frowned up at the shower head. He reached out to screw on the knobs, hoping to get the shower going again.

“John, the water is off again!” Paul called.

“God damn it, really?” John’s voice came from the kitchen. “Wait, really?”

Suddenly the water turned on again. Paul blinked as his body was hit with the cold spray and he stepped away. That’s curious. Was John up to something? He sure sounded like it when he had replied before.

“Is it working?” John hollered to him. Paul called back to confirm. The water shut off again. “How bout now?”

“It’s off!” Paul sighed and looked up at the shower head.

“Yeah, the piping system! If I run the sink the shower doesn’t work!” John called, Paul could hear that he was smirking.

Oh this fucking apartment would be the death of him, that’s for sure. 

 

Paul had been introduced to bars and clubs just a few weeks prior and now he was out on his own. John had fucked off with some bird he had found, leaving Paul on his own by the bar with a glass of whisky in one hand. He found himself not minding it much, leaning one elbow against the bar and gazing out over the dancefloor. Girls were eyeing him up left and right, tossing their long hair and just waiting for him to buy them a drink. Paul grinned to himself, he could take anyone he wanted, charm his hands into their skirts and tug them into the closest bathroom. There was a special itch inside him though, an itch for something he hadn’t done in a while. The itch to take a girl to the closest river or other waterbed, take her hands and guide her into the water…

“Hi.” A girl had slid onto the barstool next to him. She was a blond thing, hair almost white and blue eyed. Her makeup was sparse with only some light mascara and pink lipstick to match her dress.

“Hello.” Paul said softly, eyes twinkling as he let his eyes linger on her body for a few seconds too long.

“Like what you see?” The girl asked and inched closer to him. Oh, she was bold. Paul liked that.

“Maybe.” Paul promised lewdly. “What’s your name, baby?”

“Nancy.” She replied softly. “Yours?”

“I’m Paul. Want to get out of here?” Paul asked and with swift fingers he reached out to tuck a stray lock of blond hair away behind her ear. Nancy’s cheeks flushed to match her lipstick and nodded, getting off the stool.

Paul followed her, whisky forgotten on the bar in order to grab Nancy’s hand in his and lead her out of the busy club, feeling a pair of eyes burn into his neck. Quickly he turned his head to look around in the club, no one was watching them. Nancy tugged on his hand and he snapped back to her, following her out of the bar, still he couldn’t shrug away the prickling feeling that he was being watched.

Nancy was pleasant to talk to, Paul found out as they walked along the riverside in town. Paul was looking for somewhere they could go down to get close to the water, maybe go for a swim. A grin tugged on Paul’s lips as he spotted a ladder, a ladder leading down to the narrow riverbank.

“Look, let’s get down to the water, yeah?” Paul suggested, pointing to the ladder.

“Sure?” Nancy said, slightly puzzled. She was under the impression that Paul was going to take her home, but whatever. Paul’s hot and surely a man with a plan so she followed Paul down the ladder and to the riverbank. As soon as her heeled feet touched the sandy ground, she was pushed up against the brick wall. Paul’s plump, chapped lips pressing against hers and one his hands trailing up her waist.

She moaned softly against his lips, stomach flipping at the rough treatment he was giving her. Her thin arms wrapped themselves around his neck and she felt one of his legs slipping in between her thighs. She grabbed on tightly as a pair of hands started groping at the underside of her legs, feeling what was coming. Nancy wasn’t wrong and soon she was picked up by a pair of strong arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist and pushed him in closer, his crotch brushing up against hers. They moaned in unison and Nancy broke the kiss to throw her head back as Paul’s rough fingers dug into her behind. One hand disappeared from her and the sound of a zipper being unzipped was heard. She grinned and leaned in to kiss along his jaw, heart beating faster against her chest as her underwear were peeled to the side and something big and velvety rubbed up against her lips.

Paul pushed in without notice, letting out a deep groan as her wet warmth wrapped around him and he slid in deep, fingers digging into her light hips. He started to bounce her, their eyes meeting. Her pupils were blown out of proportions and her lipstick was smeared by now. He gripped her harder and stepped away from the wall. Her eyes widened and she moaned at the move, gripping his neck harder. Her eyes were stuck on his as he turned around and started to slowly walk out into the water. He still wasn’t wearing shoes and the cold water chilled the heated skin pleasantly. The sun had set hours ago and the only light provided was the gassy one from the streetlights but for Paul, the water was lighting the scene up.

Nancy didn’t struggle in his arms as her feet and legs came to hit the water. Paul kept walking, stopping once the water was up to both of their waists. With his dick still inside her he continued thrusting his hips up. She had gone quiet, little breathy moans escaping her. Paul didn’t need to hear her so he finished, spraying his cum deep inside her and then gently pulling her off. She stood pliantly as two of Paul’s fingers came to rest on her collarbones. He gave her a gentle push and she laid back into the water. He followed her down.

She didn’t make a sound, eyes transfixed on Paul’s as she sank into the dark water. Paul didn’t mind it watching her blonde locks flow around her head and little bubbles escape out through her nose and mouth until there was nothing. Paul smiled reassuringly, swimming further down under water. It was different from his own lake which was deep and the floor aligned with skeletons and beautiful withering corpses. The bottom of this river was lined with trash and garbage people had mindlessly thrown out. It was a bit of a shame really that this would be Nancy’s final resting place. They always looked so pretty when they were dead.

She started to struggle. They always did once Paul decided to break the curse by blinking away his magic. She kicked her legs, hands gripping at her throat. He gently reached down to soothe her by placing a hand on her cheek. Her skin was cold against his fingers and he shot her a final smile as he saw the life drain away from her eyes.

Nancy’s back hit the bottom of the river, nestled in beside two old tires and a bunch of cans and other pieces of scrap metal. Paul thought she looked beautiful. Her blonde locks were still floating around in the water. He swam down to correct her dress and underwear, moving it all into the right places before he moved his fingertips over her eyelids, closing her blue eyes to the world.

Once he deemed himself done he swam back to the surface, stepping out of the water and back onto the riverbank. With a satisfied smirk on his face he slicked his wet hair back and walked towards the ladder. That’s when he noticed him. A pale, thin boy was sat on top of the ladder, illuminated by the dim streetlights. He was leaning forth with his elbows resting on his knees and chin in his hands. He was dressed in all leather gear and heavy boots but he couldn’t see many details, considering that the boy was a good few meters above him.

“You’ve been following me.” Paul stated, flexing his fingers gently, ready to fight if necessary. The boy didn’t look like much of a match but looks could deceive.

“You were on my hunting grounds.” The boy replied. “I was actually going to pick you up but something felt off about you so I wanted to see who you were.”

“Your hunting grounds?” Paul scoffed. “Who says that they are your grounds?”

“The clubs belong to the vampires, fairy.” The boy said with a pompous sneer. “Go to the pubs if you want to get yourself a meal.”

“I don’t eat my prey!” Paul said and crossed his arms. “Unlike your disgusting kind.”

“The hell? Aren’t you a siren?” The boy asked. “I was a hundred percent sure that sirens ate their prey.”

“I’m half-breed.” Paul said. “My mum was a siren and my dad a human. They call me The Neck. And I don’t eat them anyway, I’m a vegetarian.”

The boy started laughing at that. His gloomy face breaking into that of laughter. Paul raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help but grin along with the boy’s infectious laughter.

“Never heard of a vegetarian siren before!” The boy replied and stood up by the ladder. “My name is George by the way. George Harrison.”

“Paul McCartney.” Paul greeted and walked the rest of the way to the metallic object. He climbed his way up it and finally got a good look of this George kid. He was a bit shorter than Paul with dark hair and matching eyes. His face was built on sharp angles and he had dark heavy eyebrows to top it off. “You don’t mind me hunting in your clubs, right?”

“Not really, but the others might.” George said with a shrug. “There are more vampires than just me. Don’t sirens belong in water by the way? Did you run out of outdoorsmen?”

“Not really.” Paul said and watched as George pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He was handed one and George helped him light it up. He was pleasantly surprised when he noticed purple smoke coming out of the other end of the stick he had pushed between his lips. “Hey, my dad used to smoke these!”

“They are good.” George agreed, picking up on the fact that Paul was avoiding his question. “So where do you live?”

“A few blocks away.” Paul replied and nodded in the direction of his and John’s apartment. “I live with my roommate but I think he’s out for the night. Found a pretty lass whose bed he could warm.”

George nodded and puffed on the cigarette in his mouth, staring out towards the river from where Paul had emerged. The older boy found himself studying the young vampire. He was god awfully thin, just like John had been. What was with all these younglings and not eating properly? George looked pretty grown up but Paul figured that wasn’t the case. Since he was only eighteen himself, George couldn’t be much older.

“Where do you live?” Paul then asked and George briefly tensed at the question before shrugging and staring down at his shoes.

“Wherever.” George replied curtly.

“You don’t have anywhere to stay then?” Paul asked, puffing on the cigarette between his lips. The purple smoke surrounding them in a light mist.

“Well yeah I do!” George defended himself and finished his own cigarette, dropping the butt to the ground and squishing it underneath the heel of his boot. “Might not have me own house but I have a place to sleep, alright?”

Paul stared at him for a few seconds before looking up to the sky. All the stars had disappeared by now and the moon was all but a small dimmed ball in the sky, hidden by heavy clouds.

“You do know that it will rain tonight, right?” Paul said and George sighed heavily, looking up at the sky.

“Are you trying to talk me into bed, McCartney?” George then asked.

“I’d hate to see a nice boy like you sleep outside, Harrison. And I have a couch to spare.” Paul said, turning back to look at George. “Come on, we better start moving before the sky opens up.”

“Well you are dripping, it’d hardly hurt you.” George scoffed but followed Paul anyway as he started to walk back towards his and John’s apartment.

The two of them made it just in time before the sky opened up and drenched them in cold rain. Paul unlocked the door to the apartment and let George in. The younger lad stopped just inside the door and raised an eyebrow. He could swear that he had been here before. Shaking off the feeling he kicked his shoes off. The apartment building was huge, he’d probably fucked in one of the other apartments, one that looked like this one.

He tore his jacket off from his body and hung it on one lonely hook on the wall before moving further into the apartment. Paul slipped into what George guessed was a bedroom to change out of his wet clothes. George moved into the living room. There was an old leather couch standing against one wall. The floor around it was covered in trash but the actual sofa was spotless, like it was a saint. He barely dared to sit on it, but he did anyway, feeling the cushions give way pleasantly underneath him.

Paul joined him a moment later, dressed in only a pair of jeans, no shirt or anything. He took the route into the kitchenette, grabbing two beers from the fridge before making his way to the sofa. He sat down and swung his legs up into George’s personal space before handing him the beer. George grabbed it gratefully and took a swig.

“My mum taught me little about vampires as a kid.” Paul then said. “Is it true that you can’t see your own reflection?”

“Yeah, bloody annoying that one, but I manage.” George muttered and took another swig to mark his words. “I can’t go to normal hairdressers though. My dad warned me off that when I was little.”

Paul chuckled lightly, imagining the reaction a hairdresser would have at seeing George in the mirror and him not appearing there. George only shook his head with a small grin.

“Were your parents both vampires then?” Paul continued to question. He liked this George kid.

“Yeah.” George replied, humouring Paul with answering. He usually didn’t like talking about his family but for some reason it felt alright when it was Paul. “I had a lot of siblings and I was the youngest. There was a sort of underground community with vampires only. Then, one day hunters got the whiff of us and found out where we were hiding. They came in and I got separated from my family, so I found myself here.”

“How old were you?” Paul asked.

“Thirteen-fourteen. Something like that.” George said with a sigh.

“My mum died when I was fourteen. I had a brother too but he wasn’t a siren. It was only me so my dad threw me out. He didn’t want to have anything to do with sirens anymore. But you said there were underground communities?”

“Yeah there are a few if you know where to look.” George said. “But they don’t last very long. The biggest is one here and then the one in London. I haven’t been to London but I have had friends who said that it was rather good. The community in town is a bit strange though. A lot of drugs and crime. There’s different gangs, so to speak and they rule the entire city with districts.”

“Gangs?” Paul asked and sat up, gaining interest by the second. He knew there was something fishy about the town, especially with the raising crime rates.

“Yeah, gangs. Thugs, maffias and stuff. The biggest one is called The Hurricanes. Then there’s the Rolling Stones too. They are pretty big.” George explained to attentive ears. “Of course in the day it’s different. There’s kids out and shops open, friendly people and stuff but at night it’s like a whole other world. You can barely walk the streets without fear of being shot.”

“And where is this?” Paul asked.

“The sewer system.” George said and Paul wrinkled his nose. “It’s not that bad. It sounds worse than it is. There is an old sewer which is much bigger and was used centuries ago. It’s cleaned out completely and located deep under the city.”

“So why don’t you live down there?” Paul asked. “Sounds much safer.”

“For the fact that there’s mafia who will shoot you if they see you.” George said but only after a moment of a shifty pause. Paul figured that there was something George was hiding from him but he didn’t feel like prying. Not yet, maybe later on if they continued to see each other. 

They continued to drink and chat on the sofa, getting to know each other. George was a rather interesting person, Paul had figured. He knew a lot about the city which neither him or John knew. But it was getting late and Paul the adrenaline from the drowning had started to ebb off. So he said goodnight to George, handing him one of the blankets from the bedroom before he settled in for the night.

George was still on the couch when Paul woke up the next morning, for some reason, he didn’t expect him to be but he was happy that he was. Paul woke him up from his peaceful slumber by moving his thin legs aside and settling down with a piece of toast and a mug of steaming tea. George had grumbled but walked off to make his own breakfast with the little resources he found in the kitchen. They hadn’t talked much during breakfast, only decently polite greetings and an odd chat about the weather. The younger of the two had gotten ready and was just about to leave when the door to the apartment opened.

“Paul?” John had called through the apartment and said Paul had replied with his own call of the roommate’s name, urging him out into the living room.

George frowned. He hadn’t actually bothered to ask whom Paul actually lived with and he did recognise the name John. Well, John is a popular name and there would surely be a million Johns out there. But still it was familiar in an odd way.

John stepped into the living room and his eyes immediately fell on George who was standing by the sofa. Their eyes met and recognition dawned over the both of them. They stood quiet, staring at each other whilst Paul sat on the sofa, looking mildly confused.

“It’s you.” John finally said, breaking the tense silence. George didn’t reply. “What the hell? What are you doing here?”

“You know each other?” Paul asked with a frown.

“We’ve met.” George said, watching as John licked his lower lips, remembering exactly how they met.

“We sure have.” John replied. “So you know Paul then?”

“Met him yesterday, it was raining out so he invited me in.” The youngest replied. You don’t… You don’t mind do you?”

“Oh, no!” John said quickly. “I was wondering about where you had fucked off to, since you said that I’d see you around, and I haven’t.”

“It’s a big city.” Was George’s only reply.

“Guess it is. So will you just leave again?” John asked, averting his eyes from George to glance at Paul who was sitting on the couch quietly, curled up with his feet tucked into the cushions and watching them. “And maybe ‘I’ll see you around’?”

“I guess…”

“You could stay here.” Paul suggested suddenly. “Then you won’t have to worry about if you have a roof over your head or not.”

John gave him an odd look but didn’t seem to be objecting to this sudden turn of events. They hadn’t met George more than once or twice each and they were already offering him to move in.

“I don’t know.” George said with a sigh. “I mean, that would be asking a lot from you.”

“Well you don’t need to eat much of our food, do you?” Paul said, grinning slightly. “And you don’t have to stay here every night if you don’t want to. God knows me and John don’t.”

“Yeah and you could help out, how do you get money?” John asked. “Do you work?”

“I pickpocket and steal.” George admitted without missing a beat. John merely nodded whilst Paul blinked, slightly taken back by the bold answer. “Need help with rent or what?”

“Yeah that’s pretty much it.” John said. “So if you pay a little rent you can stay here as much as you want, deal?”

“Alright.” George sighed but stuck his hand out for John to shake. The older man agreed with a grin.

 

George moving in was surely a shift in the cogs. The well-oiled machine that had been the Lennon-McCartney duo now had someone to look after, much like a younger brother or a kid. John was pretty easy about the situation, letting George come and go like he wanted, much like a cat. Paul on the other hand worried and fussed over the boy to death. The young vampire turned out to be more trouble than he had expected from the start. Most nights he came home late, really late or not at all. Sometimes he’d be out for days and come home full of bruises and cuts for Paul to help with and fuss over. The worst part was that the lad generally didn’t like to talk about what he was doing, only shrugged it off with a mumble about bar fights. Naturally John wasn’t very bothered, Paul on the hand felt like he would freak out any minute if George came home with another cut lip and chest full of bruises.

Paul was lazily spread out on a blanket on the floor, strumming an unnamed tune on his guitar and staring at the cracks in the ceiling. John was curled on the sofa with a blanket over his legs, his spell book in one hand and glasses pushed up high on his nose. He had been reading up on spells constantly, every second he was home was spent sleeping or with his nose burrowed far into the pages. Paul found it cute honestly. He had been feeling that a lot lately, calling every little thing John did cute. The same with George. The way John pushed his glasses up with his little finger, careful to not touch the lenses, the way his freckles shone if he’d been out in the sun, the clinginess that John had early in the morning. With George it was those big brown eyes and his fluffy hair that curled up when wet, his honest-to-god happy smile that Paul swore could light up the whole world, the way he’d run his lips over his teeth and sometimes accidently cut himself if he was hungry and his fangs were out and the tiny pained whine along with ‘Paul I did it again!’ exclaimed as Paul came to check on the damage. He was really reckless that one, of course he was but a teenager and full of hormones but it was like he didn’t fit into his body. He wasn’t used to his fangs or his strong nails and would often accidently cut himself.

God they were both what Paul would consider adorable and he was happy that he had found them. People who accepted him, even if Paul was still struggling with the drowning aspect of things. He still had a hard time grasping how that could be pleasant. But even so, sometimes he felt like something was missing, like a part of him had been lost. Maybe he should get a pet? He had actually talking to John about getting a dog but he had been shot down every time. “A dog Paul? We can barely fit three people in here! We can’t afford to have a dog running about.”

“Where did George say he was going?” Paul broke the silence and stopped his strumming, breaking John out of his reading with a huff.

“I don’t know, Macca. Why didn’t you ask him when he left if you were curious?” John asked, annoyed at being disturbed.

“Well I was out shopping when he left so I couldn’t.” Paul retorted and looked over at the lad on the couch.

“Did you buy beer?” John asked which Paul answered ‘yes’ to. “Well can you be a good, loving wife and go get me a beer then?”

“I’m not your wife, Lennon.” Paul huffed but put his guitar away and got to his feet. He was thirsty anyway.

“Might as well be.” John teased as Paul shuffled over to the kitchen. The younger boy was shirtless in nothing but a pair of jeans which John had forced onto him. If he were to choose, he’d walk around naked. “I’ll be the husband, you the wife and George our teenage son. So you will have a reason to fuss about him, give him an hour he needs to come home by and ground him if he misbehave.”

“Well what will you do in this marriage then?” Paul asked as he opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer, one for each of them. He closed the door and went to look through the drawers for a bottle opener. “If I both cook and look after George, what’ll you do, lazy git?”

“Oi, I work!” John said from the sofa. “And you don’t cook, I do.”

“Well, if you’re cooking why can’t you be the wife?” Paul asked as he came back with the bottles and handed one to John before settling in on the couch, tucking his feet in under John’s blanket.

“Because you’re the one who spends 45 minutes in the bathroom getting ready every morning!” John said, grinning lightly as he took a sip from his beer.

“I do not!”

“Do too!”

“I do not!”

“Do too!”

“Fine well, if I’m the wife it means I don’t have to work, which I do. I play music! I’ll just go out and spend time with George all day and look after him until you come home from a hard day’s of work. Since your work is super hard and very exhausting.”

John frowned a little at that and Paul grinned. His older friend really was the jealous type and he talking about spending more time than needed with George would set him off easily. Paul knew how to play John better than he knew to play his guitar.

“Alright, fuck you, I’ll be the wife.” John muttered with another swig of his beer. Paul let out a giggle and stretched out, pushing his naked feet into John’s lap. “Paul, I have been thinking about something.”

“I’ll write to the paper! It will surely hit the headlines.”

“Shut up. The thing I was thinking off was.” John took a dramatic pause, as if he was gathering courage. Paul could even see him swallowing. God, John wasn’t going to kick him out, right? “We should share a bed.”

There it was, dropped like a bomb. Paul had been thinking of it too, especially now with George in the house.

“Let’s do it.” Paul said, looking John straight in the eye to make sure that he knew he was serious, and of course to make sure that John wasn’t messing with him. “I have been thinking of that too, it’s a good idea. Practical.”

“Yeah, practical.” John agreed and averted his eyes. He sat in silence for a few minutes, occasionally sipping on his beer before he picked up his book again and continued reading. That was odd, John usually didn’t get silent like that. “Maybe we should go to bed?”

“I’m going to wait up for George first.” Paul mumbled, looking away from John and towards the hallway, as if George would magically come walking through, saving him from being up for another few hours, just waiting.

“You really are a mother.” John muttered but got up anyway. He slammed his book closed and headed off to their small bathroom to get ready for bed.

Paul laid back, sprawling out properly over the couch and tucking his feet in where John had been sitting, the spot was still warm and he let his feet curl into the pleasant heat. He wished he had one of George’s cigarettes now, he thought as he stared up at the cracks in the ceiling. This apartment was really shitty and it was no wonders they got sick all the time. The ceiling looked like it would fall in any minute and there was mould growing in the corners. Paul sighed and shook his head, the dream was to move of this hell-hole, get a nicer apartment or a townhouse but that wouldn’t be possible. Not with the amount of money they had. The fact that he and John would have to share a single bed now was more than enough to prove it. Even though the mere thought of sharing a bed with John made a shiver run through his body.

“Goodnight!” John called from the bedroom and Paul replied with a goodnight of his own before he heard the door shut. He finished his beer and put it next to John’s on the floor before laying back again and resuming his staring contest with the ceiling.

Paul wasn’t quite sure for how long he had been laying there but it couldn’t have been more than an hour, maybe two when he heard a key in the lock. He looked away from the ceiling and towards the hallway, hearing the door open and the shuffling of a pair of well-known feet. Some more shuffling and rustling from clothes was heard before George appeared in the living room,

“Good evening.” Paul greeted from the couch and watched with a glint of glee as George almost jumped out of his socks in fear, a gasp escaping him. “So where has our adventurer been tonight?”

“Eating.” George replied, rubbing a hand over his chest to sooth his racing heartbeat. “You scared the shit out of me, Paul!”

“Oh well, so do you when you don’t tell me where you’re going.” Paul retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You weren’t home!” George replied. “Get off my back, Paul. I have good news for you. I was underground and I met this man, he’s called Brian Epstein and he said he had a job offering for us.”

“A job offering?” Paul asked, frowned and then sat up. “What kind of work?”

“He didn’t really specify.” George said meekly. “But I can imagine it has something to do with drugs, dirty business. But it pays good, like really good.”

“Sounds shady, George.” Paul said and raised an eyebrow. “But, fine. We’ll check it out. When can we meet him?”

“Tomorrow night.” George said and moved over to the couch. He let out a yawn, stretching his arms above his head. A wince escaped him as he did but he tried to hide it with another yawn.

“George…” Paul sighed as George sat down on the couch and starting taking his socks and trousers off, keeping his shirt on.

“I’m fine, it’s nothing.” George muttered, grabbing the blanket John had had over his legs just a few hours before. “Now get off, I need to sleep.”

“If nothing’s wrong then take your shirt off.” Paul demanded, not moving away.

George gave him a weak glare but it did nothing to falter Paul’s stare and he obediently moved his hands to the edges of his shirt, fiddling with it meekly. With a sigh he started to take it off, not really using his left side much and Paul gasped as the normally pale skin was uncovered, only now it wasn’t pale anymore. The skin was richly decorated with blossoming bruises. Dark blues, blacks and purples. Colour was spreading all over the left side of his chest, from his shoulder down to the bottom of his ribs.

“Christ, George!” Paul sighed, moving off the couch and grabbing his good shoulder. He moved the boy to lay down on the couch. He grabbed the candle that John had been using to read and moved it closer, spreading the warm light so Paul would have an easier time checking the damage. “What did you do? And don’t give me the “I fell down the stairs crap,” I didn’t believe it the first time and I am certainly not going to believe you now so spit it out!”

“Paul please.” George whined, hissing slightly as Paul ran his fingers over his ribs, feeling for any fractures. “It’s nothing, I promise.”

“Someone did this to you.” Paul said darkly. “Whoever it was, they are going to get the double back and if you don’t tell me then I’ll find it out by myself, I promise you that. I really wish you would trust me, Geo. It hurts me to see you like this.”

George stayed quiet and let Paul make sure he wasn’t hurt too badly, occasionally letting a hiss of pain escape him. Once Paul deemed him healthy enough he stood up and draped the blanket over the boy on the couch, tucking the pillow in behind his head. It had become natural almost, him tucking in George when he came home hurt or drunk. He situated the blanket so it covered both his covers, looking at him one last time before blowing the candle out and leaving the room in darkness.

“Goodnight, Geo.” Paul said with a sigh. “Be careful, alright?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” George whispered, curling into the warmth from the woollen blanket. “Goodnight.”

Paul nodded and walked towards John’s bedroom. He walked inside and stopped at the door. The moonlight was shining through an opening in the curtains, hitting John’s body with a silvery light. He was laying on his stomach, shirtless with the covers bunching around his hips. His back looked firm, skin smooth and his muscles just lightly defined. Paul found himself wanting to run his hands down John’s back, feeling the firm muscles and soft skin. On the other hand he just wanted to stand and admire him for a while, neither of which could be accomplished as;

“Macca?” John hummed from the bed. He raised a hand to rub at his face, blinking his eyes open.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Paul said and walked over to the bed. “George came home all bruised up again, this time it’s really bad.”

“You worry too much, what time is it?” John asked as he scooted over in bed, pulling the covers and (sadly) covering up his torso from Paul’s view.

“It’s half past two in the morning.” Paul mumbled as he made his way over to the side of the bed. He looked over at where John was laying, wondering how this would go.

“Christ, get to bed.” John muttered and that was it. Paul (still with his jeans on) crawled into bed, laying down on the other side of the single. It really wasn’t made for two, decently tall young men. At first, Paul turned his back to John and closed his eyes, trying to sleep but he couldn’t stop feeling John’s presence next to him, his breathing, his warmth. It was silent for a while, unnervingly silent with neither of them barely daring to move. This was foreign, forbidden on some level. Friends didn’t share beds like this, not in a normal situation. Especially not when you were nineteen and seventeen. “Paul?”

“Yeah, John?” Paul tried to still his racing heart when he heard John’s soft voice from behind him. He wanted to turn over and look John in the eye but with the already small space, he didn’t dare. Things would get uncomfortable and that was the last thing he wanted.

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and suddenly he was rolled over. Before he had a chance to grasp the situation, his arms were full with sleepy, warm John Lennon. Paul’s eyes widened and he looked down at the boy who had become his best friends in just a few months. He was laying soundly on Paul’s chest, arms pressing in to rest around his naked waist. The skin on skin contact was burning on him but he couldn’t find the will to move.

“J-John?” Paul asked, hands hovering lightly over John’s body. He wanted to hold him but he wasn’t sure how to react. What on earth was John doing?

“Just shut up.” John mumbled and knocked Paul’s chin back with his head, fitting his face into the crook of Paul’s neck. A ticklish feeling from John’s eyelashes told Paul he had closed his eyes and was ready to sleep.

He slowly let his tense muscles ease and allowed his hands to rest on John’s body, pulling him even closer and holding him, never ever wanting to let go again.

That night Paul slept better than he ever had, knowing that he was warm and safe with John in his arms, still something was tugging on his heart strings and he couldn’t figure out what.

 

John worked the next day, he was already gone when Paul had woken up. Still, the younger boy didn’t mind much. He bounced out of bed and into the kitchen to make toast for breakfast, humming Little Richard and dancing about in the kitchen, which in turn woke a sore George up.

“Shut up!” He whined from the couch, covering his head with the pillow. Obviously not happy about being woken up to the sounds of Paul’s lovely voice howling Little Richard’s Get rich quick at nine in the morning.

“Be nice to me Georgie, I’m making you breakfast.” This immediately shut up the boy on the couch and Paul grinned to himself, food always did the trick. He finished his song just in time for the kettle to sound.

He poured the tea into two mugs and grabbed the pieces of toast, slathering them thickly with raspberry jam before balancing it all on a plate. He padded out into the living room where George was heaving himself out of the couch, groaning all the while from his severely bruised ribcage. Paul shook his head but showed no mercy as he sat down next to the boy and gave him his mug of tea once he was finally in a decently upright position.

Once they had eaten, Paul grabbed his guitar and left George with the dishes. He walked back into the bedroom, pulled on the closest white tshirt and then headed for the door.

“I’m going out!” He called for George. “I’ll try to fish in some money and buy lunch.”

“Wait, can I come with you?” George suddenly asked from the living room. He appeared at the end of the short hallway, pulling his shirt on and buttoning his jeans at the same time. His hair was still standing on end and he looked like he needed two more cups of coffee to live. In all truth he looked adorable and Paul wanted to tuck him back into bed and cuddle him until there was no tomorrow.

“Really, you want to?” Paul asked. The boy had never wanted to come with him before!

“Yeah.” George said, straightening his clothing. “I haven’t spent time with you in ages.”

“You know it’s sunny outside, right?” Paul asked warily, his hand on the door handle.

“Oh yeah, I ate last night so I am fine.” George shrugged him off and put his shoes on. He grabbed his jacket and sunglasses and then followed Paul out.

“Is that how it works?” Paul asked, slinging the guitar over his shoulder as he locked the door behind them and started heading downstairs, George next to him. “You eat and then you’re fine?”

“That’s how it works for me.” George replied, sticking his hands deep into his pockets, sun glasses balanced on his nose by now. “My eyes can get a bit sensitive though, it gives me a headache after a while, and if I get hungry, which I will get if I’m out in the sun too much, my eyes will go all red. People tend to freak out when that happens. When was the last time you had any?”

Paul thought back, he hadn’t been doing his drownings in a long time. He longed for it though, the familiar itch in his lungs and fingertips. Maybe it was the itch to drown someone, or just wanting to get into the water. He had been too busy, working, worrying, looking after George.

“I think the last time was when I met you.” Paul finally admitted after a few seconds of silence.

“Oh.” Was George’s reply as silence fell between them. He lowered his head a little as they walked out of the apartment building and out into the sun. Summer was coming now and it was coming quickly with long days and warm nights.

The world outside was busy as they made their way through town to find a decently packed town square where Paul could lure in people. They finally settled on one rather close to their home. It was pretty and decorated with benches along the sides and a fountain in the middle. Paul made himself comfortable on the heated cobble ground, taking the guitar out of its case and placing it on his lap, case in front of his feet. George stood by his side as Paul tuned his instrument to perfection and strummed a few chords. He started playing soft melodies, humming along, sometimes singing. George found himself lulled to Paul and sat down next to him, watching his the boy’s fingers move over the guitar strings effortlessly. It was like magic, captivating magic.

“Look at me Geo, take your jacket off.” Paul said quietly. “And your shoes. Lay down in my lap.”

George found himself obeying the older boy, stripping off the items of clothing and then laying with his head and shoulders pillowed in Paul’s lap, shielded mostly by the guitar. His chest hurt lightly as he moved but as he settled down against Paul, the pain disappeared, just like that and he found himself letting out a breath of relief.

“Just relax, Geo.” Paul hummed and George did as asked, closing his eyes. The sunglasses were plucked away from him, the guitar was shading his face anyway and curious fingers trailed along the hem of his tshirt, pulling it up slightly to expose one pointed hipbone. Once he deemed himself ready, Paul turned back to his guitar, strumming along. A small whine escaped George. It felt like he couldn’t control his body. Something inside him wanted to pull his shirt back down and get his glasses on but it felt like Paul had draped a heavy blanket over him, lulling him with comfortable warmth.

George felt himself losing consciousness slowly and the last words he heard seemed far away. It was Paul telling someone that George was his little brother. Money to feed him, something like that.

He kept slipping in and out, half dazed across Paul’s lap, one hand tucked under his cheek and one hand thrown lazily over Paul’s knee. The jeans were starting to wear out and would probably break there soon. Paul only owned one pair of pants after all and they had been bought at a thrift shop. George was surprised they had managed to last this long. He wanted to trail his fingers over the material but found himself unable to do so. He couldn’t move, at all. The only control he had was to open or close his eyes but even that felt heavy and when his eyes were open the only thing he could see was the back of Paul’s guitar anyway.

His peaceful slumber was rudely jolted away from him and there was a snapping sound running through his head, he wasn’t sure if that was only his imagination but it sounded like someone had snapped their fingers in his ear. His eyes shot open and he sat up, Paul, his living pillow, was moving, leaning down to gather all the money people had thrown his way.

“What happened?” George found himself asking. He felt a little sick, his head was hurting. Had Paul spelled him? He could faintly remember what had happened before. Him looking at Paul, listening to his sweet music. He had taken off his jacket and shoes before laying down, in Paul’s lap. His stomach briefly fluttered at the thought, even if Paul had pretty much forced him. God had he really let his guard down that much? From all his years on his own, down underground he should know better. Still Paul hadn’t hurt him per say.

“Get dressed, Geo.” Paul said as he packed his guitar away and started counting his money, there were mostly coins but at least there was a bunch of them, almost a handful. “We made a lot, you know?”

George huffed but put his jacket on with some difficulty, his chest starting to ache again. He put his shoes on too as well as his sunglasses which Paul handed to him.

“You could have just asked me.” He then huffed.

“Didn’t want to explain it.” Paul replied simply. “And this way you wouldn’t get restless either. Come on, I’ll buy you fish and chips.”

George made sure Paul kept to his promise and ordered a coke on his expense as well for payback. They sat down on the curb, relaxing with Paul in the sun and George in the shade from a trashcan. He was still a bit woozy from Paul’s magic but that was nothing a little food couldn’t fix and he munched away on his chips happily. Paul even offered half of his fish as a sign of peace, which was gratefully accepted.

After their greasy lunch, Paul headed for the store, George in a tow. He was almost feeling giddy about going to the shops with Paul, one of the most mundane tasks in the world. Still, it felt like an adventure. He hadn’t shopped in years, not having money or a reason to. All his meals were scraped away from lingering plates at open-air cafes or greasy street food wherever he could find it. Now he was standing in the middle of a grocery store, surrounded by more food than he knew existed. Paul had found a basket and was going through the rows of vegetables, looking for whatever was cheap.

George trailed after him like a puppy, occasionally running on missions to find bread, milk or whatever Paul asked for and soon enough they had filled the basket with all kinds of groceries. He felt like a child, walking around with Paul, especially so when Paul asked if he wanted anything special. George had eyed the different kinds of candy and finally settled on a lollipop. He gave it to Paul shyly and the chuckle which escaped Paul didn’t help either.

The older of two payed for everything and as they packed the bags, George noticed something very, very strange amongst the items.

“Paul?” He said carefully, eyeing the item which Paul was stuffing into one of the bags. “Why did you buy dog food? Don’t tell me…”

“No George.” Paul interrupted him. “I feed the strays. Both cats and dogs eat this so it’s fine. They need to eat too, you know. And no one’s feeding them so I’ll do it.”

“We don’t have that much money, you can’t waste it on dogs!” George protested but grabbed a few plastic bags anyway to help Paul with the load.

“It’s my money.” Paul said with one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. “I’ll buy whatever I want with it. Now are you going to help me feed them or no?”

“Yeah fine.” George muttered and followed Paul out of the store. They walked down the streets together until Paul made an abrupt turn and walked into an alley. The minute he walked in there was barks to be heard, loud growling ones along with light yips.

Paul put the bags aside and pulled out the dog food. He walked further into the alley and got to his knees, opening the bag and pushing his hands inside, grabbing a few handfuls of the pebbly food. He threw it to the ground and watches as cats and dogs came creeping out of their hidings, sniffing the air and then eagerly rushing to where the food was scattered about. A cat came right up to Paul and stroked it’s thin body against him. It was lacking fur, probably crawling with flies but Paul petted it anyhow and handed it some food.

George stood back and watched the spectacle. He would have been terrified out of his mind if he was crowded by ugly, mangled animals like that. They weren’t cute or pretty. Most of them lacking fur or pieces of their ears. There was even a dog with just one eye. It was black and looked menacing to say the least. Paul looked like a saint in his bleached jeans and white tshirt, sitting amongst the creatures on his knees with food in his hands for them to soothe their stomachs with. He looked holy and George almost wanted to paint the scene and hang it up in a church somewhere.

He had almost forgotten that he was actually there when something large pushed at his hip. He almost jumped out of his skin when he realised that one of the beasts had come up to him. It was a dog, one of the most intact ones, with only a few scars. The things was massive, reaching George’s hip whilst on all fours. If the dog were to stand he was sure that it would almost reach him in height, or taller.

“Hey he likes you!” Paul said once he had turned his head to take a look at George. “That’s an English mastiff, he’s a good dog. Very kind and mild.”

“I doubt that.” George said, keeping his hands in the air and out of the way for the dog. It looked droopy, with its big snout, dipping eyes and large hanging ears. “Shoo!”

The dog didn’t seem to mind him. He just sat down in front of George, tongue out and watching him. George frowned in confusion, what the hell was wrong with the mutt? He slowly backed away, groaning in annoyance when the dog simply followed him. What annoyed him more was Paul’s childish giggles.

“He likes you!” Paul said happily. “Come over here Georgie, you can feed him if you’d like.”

George contemplated kicking the dog away for a moment but figured that would be a really stupid action considering the size of the dog and Paul’s fondness of them. Giving up the fight, he walked back to Paul with a sigh and held his hand out. Paul handed him some food with a snicker. George fought the urge to give him a death glare and held out his hand to the English Mastiff, much like Paul did with the other animals. The dog seemed to light up and gave a bark of gratitude before lowering his massive snout into George’s hand and munching up all the food. The boy cringed at the feeling. The snout was wet and cold and the feeling of the sharp teeth scraping against him didn’t make it better either.

Once the Mastiff had finished eating he leaned up to lick a long stripe over George’s cheek, leaving him covered in drool. Paul laughed at his misfortune whilst George gagged and tried to wipe it off on him.

 

They made it home just before John would get off work since he worked late today. Once back inside the safety of their apartment, Paul threw his shirt off, hanging it up on a hook, like it was a jacket before taking the groceries into the kitchen. George pulled his glasses off and out them aside before stumbling to the couch. He could only handle so much sun in one day along with magic and he hadn’t eaten much last night, not having the guts to take more than a few gulps of sweet, sweet blood.

He crashed down on the couch face first with a loud groan, his bruised ribs falling hard against the leather. He had almost forgot about that by now but now it hurt. His ribs hurt, his head hurt, he was woozy and he wanted to cry. Instead of crying he distracted himself by clawing uselessly on the couch and trying to listen to Paul busying himself in the kitchen. His stomach was starting to turn too, twisting up to give him more pain, finally a little sniffle escaped him, not being able to keep it in any longer. He was so hungry and why had he been so stupid to spend an entire day with Paul out in the sun whilst not even having eaten enough. Now he was going to suffer from hunger all until nightfall and it was barely sic yet!

“Geo, you alright?” Paul’s voice suddenly came from next to him. George hadn’t even realised that the older boy had moved, yet that he had been loud enough for Paul to hear him. Releasing another pained sob, he started curling in on himself, being careful with his ribs at the same time. “George? Can you answer me? What’s going on?”

“H-Hungry.” He managed to stutter, feeling a tear fall down his cheeks. He opened his eyes and looked at Paul who gasped at the sight of him. His eyes were probably red by now, blood shot and all. “I-It hurts.”

George thought Paul would turn away from him, maybe get him some water, aspirin, whatever to ease his pain. Tuck him in under the blankets. He didn’t expect Paul to place his hands under his armpits and haul him up, switching their places and sitting George down on his lap.

Paul manoeuvred him easily to a straddling position, all his time spent swimming was really paying off and George let himself be manhandled, holding onto Paul as the movements were making his head spin. One of Paul’s big hands settled on the back of his head, gripping his hair and pushing his face down, down towards Paul’s neck.

“N-No…” George whined, squirming in Paul’s lap when he understood what he wanted him to do.

“It’s the least I can do.” Paul hummed, wrapping a strong arm around George’s thin to stop his squirming and weak escape attempts. Biting hurt, George knew, he had been bitten and he had listened to all his victims pained, gurgling moans as he sucked the life out of them. He couldn’t do that to Paul, couldn’t bring him that pain. “George, I’ll force you if you don’t.”

His head was suddenly lifted and he was forced to face Paul. He let out a sniffle at the sight of him, looking so demanding and harsh it reminded him briefly of his own father. When he didn’t move, a wave of magic hit him, making his head spin.

“No, no Paul stop it!” He managed to get out. He helped feeling helpless and helpless was what he was to Paul’s siren ways. “I-I’ll do it, just don’t!”

Paul stopped, his gaze faltering and losing the shimmer of magic. He soothed George by rubbing the back of his head, treading his fingers through the dark locks. The younger boy was sniffling freely, tears falling from his cheeks, hating the whole thing, if only he had been smarter. Not so weak at heart, maybe he’d not have been in this position, straddling Paul’s lap whilst crying from pain and frustration at what he was going to have to do. Slowly he lowered his head, feeling the heat from Paul’s neck and the smell of his blood bring him in.

“You don’t have to worry.” Paul’s voice interrupted him. “I won’t let you drink too much.”

That was the last assurance that George needed. He burrowed his nose into the crook of Paul’s neck. He smelled so, so good. Much like John had, months ago. He could hear Paul’s pulse beating, sounding like music in his ears. His mouth creaked horribly, his teeth breaking through and lowering into his mouth. He placed a curious kiss against Paul’s warm skin to test the waters. The older boy only tightened his grip on George’s hair, urging him on. He ran his nose over the warm spot of skin he had kissed and opened his mouth, placing his lips on the skin again. His teeth grazed the soft skin and then he slowly sank his teeth in. Above him he could hear a faint pained hiss but he was too far gone. His mouth was flowing with blood and he drank it greedily, his head swimming from the rich taste. He drank and drank, gulping down mouthful after mouthful. His hands searched Paul’s naked skin, settling on his shoulder and pulling his body tight against his. He never wanted to let Paul go, he wanted to suck him dry, feel his body run cold under his hands, then kiss him goodbye, leaving him aside for the cops to find.

The hand in his hair tightened and he was pulled off. His teeth got caught in skin and ripped at it painfully. George let out a whine at the loss of heat and his food source but then his face was pushed back against the found. Instead of inserting his teeth he licked at it, feeling the skin and muscle heal under his touch. Once it was all healed and the blood was licked away his body slumped against Paul’s. Strong arms were wrapped around him once again as Paul laid them down on the couch, tangled up in each other.

“There, Georgie.” Paul hummed softly in his ear. “Easy now.”

George could feel his teeth slide back into his jaws, a shiver ran through him. He would never get used to the feeling of his sharp teeth even if he had had them since he was an itsy bitty toddler, chewing holes in rubber toys and chasing down rats outside the house. His stomach ache and headache had subsided and been replaced by the comfortable, stuffy feeling one would get when having had eaten a good meal, like Christmas dinner. When it was almost on the verge of being too much but not quite. He felt content and purred like a cat, stretching in Paul’s arms and rubbing into him, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Feels better, huh?” Paul hummed, holding George close with his arms wrapped around the thin waist pressed against him. One hand was teasing the lining of the shirt he was wearing, wanting to feel the skin underneath it but being too tired to take action. This time it was his turn to be woozy and dazed. Served him right.

“Yeah, thank you.” George muttered. He looked up at Paul, moving closer to him. “Will you be okay? We still have that work assignment thing.”

“Yeah I just need to rest a little.” Paul said and closed his eyes. George was so little, so soft. He wanted to hold him like this forever, feel his beating heart against him.

“I’ll stay with you.” George said sweetly and made himself comfortable.

 

When John came home that afternoon he came home to a heart warming sight. On the couch laid Paul, shirtless as always with George cuddled close, enclosing him and holding him with his entire body so he wouldn’t fall off the couch. John had to stop in the doorway and admire them for a little while. They both looked so content and happy, maybe they could make this a regular thing? Cuddling wasn’t queer, right? There was no kissing, or hugging or anything like that. They just slept together for warmth and considering that there were only two place to sleep for three people, it was bound to happen.

He kept watching them until his stomach made its notion clear by loudly growling at him. With a huff, he backed into the kitchen and turned to cook something. They had been out shopping, he immediately noticed as he opened the fridge and began to look about. Ever since George and Paul had moved in, his fridge had constantly been stocked. Money was flowing in at a steady rate, not enough for them to get out of any kind of poverty, but enough to keep food in the fridge and water in the pipes. Life had really changed for the better since he met the two boys currently asleep on his couch. First things first, he had a couch, maybe a bed soon too if things were going as planned. A second bed would be terrific. Especially with George in the house. But at the same time, they had sort of solved the problem now with him and Paul sharing a bed and George on the sofa. His cheeks heated up lightly at the memory. He didn’t want that to stop! Sharing a bed with Paul had been fantastic and it had pained him to have to leave Paul in the morning. He could have stayed in bed the whole day.

John poured the food up into three bowls, filling up George’s with a little bit more, as usual. He returned to the living room, carefully balancing the three stew filled bowls and having three spoons in his mouth. Thankfully George had been woken up by the smell of food and sat up when he noticed John struggling. He grabbed a bowl and a spoon from him before digging in. Paul stirred too from all the rustling and reached up to rub at his eyes cutely. John wanted to coo. Paul waking up was the most precious thing in the world. The way his long eyelids would flutter lightly, fighting the heavy sleep and his cheeks would be slightly puffy. His fluffy hair would stand on end, individual locks resisting against gravity and pointing out in a billion different directions.

He didn’t notice that he had been staring until Paul grabbed a bowl and spoon from him, shuffling up to make place for John to sit down. He did so gratefully, settling in with one leg curled up on the cushions and the other hanging off from the couch. Paul sat with his legs criss-cross, leaning up at the armrest as he stirred the stew with his spoon. George had already started eating, not minding the heat. He was curled up between the two older boys, criss-cross as well with the bowl in his lap.

“So what’s the occasion?” John found himself asking as he blew on some of his food before bringing the spoon into his mouth. Paul and George looked up at him, George with a frown and Paul with that typical McCartney, eyebrow raise. “Well I usually don’t find you two snuggled up on the couch, do I? Was there a formal invite that I didn’t get?”

“Oh, uh.” Paul started and looked over at George. The younger wasn’t meeting his eye, instead he just stared down at his bowl. “Well you see, George and I were out in the sun all day and he didn’t eat enough yesterday and got sick. So I let him bite me and then we both got tired, so…”

He trailed off and John could guess the rest. The time George bit him was still so terribly fresh in his mind. There was just something about that moment. Before it had happened George had just been an ordinary kid who would most likely be a good fuck. After the bite, John felt something. Something other than friendship for the boy, the room seemed to light up whenever George would step through, the same with Paul. There was something about the two of them and John couldn’t figure out what the hell it was.

“Hello? Earth to John!” Paul was waving a hand in front of his face. Unknowingly to John they had all finished eating and had started talking about something or other. He hadn’t been listening. “You’re not paying attention and this is important.”

“Shoot.” John said and put his bowl aside before sliding down into a more comfortable position with his legs stretching out over George’s lap. Paul merely rolled his eyes.

“As I was saying.” He continued. “Yesterday, George told me that there’s a job for us. Down in the underground.”

“I already have a job.” John said and reached for George. He grabbed him by his belt loop and pulled him closer before grabbing his cigarettes and lighter. George huffed but grabbed one as well, letting John light it for him.

“Well, this one might pay better and you can work double shifts, can’t you?” Paul said, crotchety about the way John was treating the issue, or rather not treating it, at all. “Look Johnny, if we do this then maybe we can earn a bunch of cash, move out of the apartment and get a better one! Where the electricity doesn’t go out between the hours of nine to twelve every night and the water doesn’t just stop working randomly. Three people in here is a bit cramped and George is a growing boy. We need more space!”

“We aren’t getting a dog.”

“Oh come on, John! Just a small one? I’ll keep him out of your sight, I promise. You won’t even see him.”

“I’ll smell him.”

George tuned out of the conversation the moment Paul opened his mouth again. They could go on bickering for ages about pets. John being a cat person and Paul being a dog person. To George it didn’t matter, he didn’t want a pet anyway and he definitely did not want to get into the fight by trying to side with either of them. The dog from before, he found himself thinking. Would he want a dog like that? He had seen other street kids like himself who has slipped out of the system hang around with stray dogs, you would rarely see someone hang about with cats. Those things are insidious. Dogs on the other hand are simple and loyal, they don’t really have a mind of their own like cats do. When he was younger, George would have loved to have a dog, a big one like the mastiff he and Paul had encountered earlier but most dogs were too rural to approach and George never had money to spare for dog food back in the day.

He leaned back into the couch, vaguely listening to Paul’s and John’s argument. Sometimes he told himself that living on the street would be better, especially now that the air was warm from the summer sun and he wouldn’t freeze his toes off during the night. A lot of the time he felt stupid when he was inside the apartment. He couldn’t cook for himself, didn’t really know how to turn on the record player, couldn’t play guitar. Well he could take like two chords but was way too proud to ask Paul for help, well maybe that would change now, considering what they had done together. It was dirty, wrong, you shouldn’t bite another magical creature. If people were to know… God, a shiver ran down George’s spine. He didn’t know what they would do to him then, considering that the vampire community had hunted him down since the age of twelve. But John and Paul couldn’t know that, never ever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit shorter, leading up to a big bastard
> 
> Comments are greatly appriciated!

Some clock on some far away church rang eerily, signalling that it was twelve o’clock. John found himself wanting to be back in bed. It was cold outside, the sun had been replaced by the moon a long time ago and the warmth had escaped them. His mind drifted away to his warm pillows and blankets. He had recently bought (stolen) a new book and he longed to read it whilst putting on a record. Yeah, that would be nice. But no, George had to drag them out into the cold night to go get work. They had explained it to him, all about the underground society for monsters and maybe he was excited for that but it didn’t matter. He could be sleeping right now!

John grabbed George’s arm and pulled him closer. The boy let out a chocked grunt but John paid him no mind. He stuck his hand down George’s pocket and fished up his cigarettes and a lighter grumpily. Pushing the stick into his mouth, he lit it and sucked in the warm smoke.

“Christ, John.” George let out as he was released. “You couldn’t just ask for one?”

“No.” Was the only answer he was offered. John could almost feel Paul roll his eyes at him, traitor. How could he have allowed this to happen? It was all Paul’s fault that they were strolling about in the middle of the night, all three in leather jackets. Paul without shoes, as usual. That son of a gun never got cold. He could feel cold things but his body didn’t get cold. John was jealous, he needed warmth like he needed his cheap, two pounds beer.

“Okay, come on, turn left here.” George led the way into a narrow alley. The buildings either side reached high into the sky with clotheslines treading between them. Dress, shirts and underwear was blocking the view of the moon and stars. John huffed some smoke in their direction for disturbing his view.

“Are you going to rape us before you kill us?” John asked into the night. They had stopped and George was mucking around with a shady door with boards over the window. Paul was leaning against the wall next to him, watching his nimble fingers working the locks. “Or just kill us? I mean, I wouldn’t mind giving head one last time before I die.”

“John!” George hissed and shushed at him. Paul gave a light chuckle and smiled at him through the dark.

The lock in the door clicked and George put his hand on the handle to open but then halted. He slowly turned back to the boys behind him who had walked closer.

“Keep a low profile.” George whispered. “Just follow me, act like you’ve been here before. We are going to a bar called the Cavern to meet a man called Brian Epstein. He’s queer so flutter your eyelashes and he’ll probably give us the job.”

With that George turned around and entered the building. John and Paul shared a dirty lock with a snicker as they followed him inside. The room was hot and empty apart and John couldn’t see a damn thing and not only because he didn’t have his glasses on. Apparently this was no problem for Paul or George, especially not since Paul placed a hand on his lower back and guided him forth. John was thankful for the dark, otherwise Paul would have seen his blush and he did not want that. Things would get really awkward really quickly if Paul understood that John had a thing for him, it had been a close call the other night when they shared a bed together and John couldn’t deal with the fact that Paul was so close, but so far away.

“Hey, John watch your step.” Paul grabbed at the back of his jacket to stop him. “There’s stairs here. Look –uh- grab my hand and I’ll help you down.”

John wanted to come up with some witty response but he couldn’t. The hand disappeared from his lower back and grabbed his own suddenly. Sparks of what John could only describe as electricity flew from the grip, Paul’s hand was hot, burning almost, like usual. The man was a radiator normally but now it was even worse. John gulped as he let himself be guided down the apparent stairs and tried to not think about the situation, just two lads holding hands, nothing queer about that, absolutely nothing queer about it. Still, he felt like he’d faint if this dragged on for much longer. And apparently it did because god damn, these stairs were never ending!

“George, how far is it? We’ve been walking for hours!” John moaned, feeling Paul’s fingers twitch against his. He wanted to rub his thumb over the back of Paul’s hand but that would probably be considered weird.

“It’s been three minutes.” George sighed. “I think it’s like two or three levels down and then an elevator.”

“Elevator?” Paul questioned next to him. He talking made this situation even more real and John wanted to curl into his side, in a very non-queer way obviously.

“Yeah, the sewers are deep already and then they have been expanded down, I think there’s like, six floors? Not that there are floors, but you know? Height wise.” George explained and Paul hummed some kind of reply.

“I see a light!” John suddenly announced and pointed forth. A flickering, sickly green light that looked like it belonged to a hospital but it was a light none the less.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and Paul let go of John’s hand, now that he could see again. They had reached a small reception like area. The walls were made out of rock, and one was metal. The metal wall contained the lights and elevators. There were three of them for convenience. There were two other people off to the side. John gave them a curious glance. He had never seen people like that before. One of them were sickly green with gills along the side of her throat. She had red hair up in a pony tails and her eyes were the blackest of black. The other one, John couldn’t tell if they were a girl or a boy. They were dressed in a short mini skirt and tank top, pale like George with dark red eyes and black short hair. The whatever-gendered creature was staring right at him and made his blood run cold. Thankfully the elevator dinged its presence and George led both the boys inside. John released the breath he hadn’t noticed that he had been holding and leaned against the metal wall of the elevator, watching as George worked the buttons.

“Was that a shape shifter of some kind?” Paul asked. “The green girl.”

“I think she is a demi-god.” George said as the elevator whirred to live with a crackle that made John fear for his safety. “But I don’t really know what she does.”

“Demi-god? How many creatures are there out there? If they are all as creepy as her, I’m bailing.” John huffed, back still stiff with elevator-fear.

“There are tons!” Paul filled in. “I don’t know them all but from what my mum told me there are all kinds of all shapes and sizes! Everything from small fairies to giants!”

“Save me.” John muttered and rubbed at his face with one hand.

The elevator came to a stop soon enough and Paul smiled back at John. At least he was excited. John was mostly nervous. The doors to the elevator cracked open and immediately they were hit by a wall of noise. There were people, sounds and buildings everywhere! George led the way as they stepped out onto the open street. It was lighter than john expected and much roomier, more city like… The sewer were still there but much smaller than normal and covered by what John guessed was glass. There were sidewalks on either side with buildings towering unreasonably high for being underground. John wouldn’t put his foot into one of those structures without fearing for his life. They looked like they had been built by three year olds! Balconies were jutting out over the street, some floors crooked, walls bent out of shape and held together by poles. The windows were cracked and old looking. A lot of the roofs lacked pans and there were big holes in them. Most of them were brick with funky graffiti sprayed onto them, even the doors were sprayed down. Neon signs lit up the place along with gassy street lamps. Music were pounding out of the clubs and easy clad men and women were mingling around on the streets, trying to get people into their pants.

If you thought the buildings were enough you should see the people. Humanoid creatures, big and small, tall and round. Beasts of all kinds. Vampires, sirens, trolls, people who looked like they had been crossbred with ants, angels, demons, elves, fairies flying about, centaurs trotting around and acting as a taxi service. There were also children. Those were the most interesting things John had ever seen and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from a gangly group of kids who sat on the curb. One of them John recognised to be a vampire and she was gnawing on a rabbit, blood covering her entire face as she enjoyed her meal. Two troll boys were having a brawl and there was one girl practising spells by making little pebbles levitate around.

“Welcome to the underground.” George said hastily. “Now we have to get going, I know it’s a lot but we have time to see it all later, I promise.”

George grabbed John and Paul by their wrists when they refused to move, still staring at the world around them with big eyes and tugged them along. John shook himself out of the trance and trailed after George. He grabbed the boy’s hand and allowed himself to look around. George hugged his hand but John could barely feel it. He was stuck staring at the buildings they passed, a lot of them turned out to be shops, clubs or bars and for the first time in his life, John found himself more interested in the local grocery stores than the male strip club they just passed. He wanted George to stop so he could browse around in the shop which were open even though it was the middle of the night. The shop windows were full of the most interesting items John had ever seen. There were shops filled with nothing but seeds and different kinds of plants which John had never seen. There were also barbers specialised in cutting claws and sharpening teeth. John briefly wondered if George had to visit those kinds of places.

George took a left turn onto another street which was almost even busier with more bars and less shops. John was almost disappointed but the people on the street made up for it. There were a lot of street musicians and artist willing to paint your face for a fiver. Some people they passed gave the trio terribly dirty looks, almost sneering their way.

Another right turn and a few clubs down George stopped them. He brought them in close, looking around to make sure that no one was listening to them. This street was rather empty and no one seemed to be willing to give the strangers their time, too busy with their own lives, thankfully.

“Alright, Mr. Epstein is an elf and he has people working for him in the entire club so keep your wallets close.” George said and the boys nodded along, exchanging a wary look with each other. “Be polite, look him in the eye when you’re talking, all that stuff. Paul you know how to speak with elves right?”

“Yeah.” Paul almost scoffed. “Elves are the only creatures my siren magic don’t work on without music.”

“Right.” George said and looked at them once more before nodding and turning towards the bar. He took a deep breath and opened the door to The Cavern and stepped through. The boys following close behind, not wanting to lose their little leader.

The Cavern was a smoky environment and John decided that he instantly liked it. The walls were thick and the tables made of dark wood. There was a stage in one corner where a band was rocking out. John had to give it to them, they were decent and the fact that they were playing Little Richard was making everything so much better.

George looked around a little until he spotted someone in a booth in the corner. He guided his friends towards the booth and John laid his eyes on whom John expected was Brian Epstein. The man had an aura of posh around him which made him stand out. He was dressed in a three piece suit that looked way too expensive to be seen in a place like this. His hair was neatly done and his forehead was high. He had folded his hands and placed his chin upon them, staring off into space. His most noticeable feature however were his ears, they were large and pointy, looking like they could pierce a man. When he noticed the three boys he smiled kindly and motioned for them to sit down. George and Paul quickly squeezed down onto the seat in front of Mr. Epstein, leaving John to sit down next to the man.

“Good evening, my name is Brian Epstein.” Mr. Epstein said, a polite greeting. John didn’t expect anything else. “George we’ve met. Now this must be Paul and John, I assume?”

“Yes, sir.” Paul said with a nod, keeping his eyes on Brian and his hands on his lap. “My name is Paul McCartney.”

“I’m John Lennon.” John replied and when Paul gave him a pointed look he quickly added ‘sir’ at the end, not wanting to displease the man who could give them a job.

“Very well, I assume you want to know about the job.” Brian continued on. “I suspect you know about the mafia already. Gangs such as the Rolling Stones, Rory and the hurricanes, The Who. I’m not going to name them all but I understand that you are familiar with these names?”

The boys gave a collective nod. George had given them a brief summary of the different gangs at one point and John could faintly remember that The Rolling stones had a leader called Mick Jagger. More than that he didn’t know.

“Good, now my proposal is that I want you to start a mafia.” Brian said and leaned further in over the table so he could lower his voice. “Not on your own of course. I already have two boys who will be able to help you. The name your mafia will take is The Beatles.”

“What do we have to do?” Paul asked. “As in what do we do as a mafia?”

“A lot of it involves selling and buying drugs, that’s how you start. It’s the main income at first.” Brian explained. “Then comes the assassinations and kidnappings. Of course I will help and guide you through the process.”

“Assassinations?” John asked with a frown. Brian turned to look at him. “Do you mean killing people?”

“Why, yes John, that’s what I mean.” Brian asked like it was obvious.

“No.” John said and crossed his arms. Paul’s eyes widened and he turned to look at John with a shocked expression. George was glaring at him, fingers scraping against the table top. “I’m not going to go around killing people for money, fuck that.”

John rose from his seat and glared at the three people still sat at the table. He was gaining attention by now. People who couldn’t keep their eyes of any time of action looked towards him. He could feel their eyes burning into the back of his neck. 

“John, sit down!” Paul hissed. “Let’s talk through this first.”

“No, I’m done talking. I am not going to kill anyone, especially not for money!” John snapped.

“Mind if we take this upstairs, boys?” Brian cut in. John opened his mouth to immediately protest when he heard the light cocking of a gun. He turned his head and saw that just as George had predicted. Brian had people in the entire bar. A rather normal looking girl was sat by the bar, dressed in a simple nice, purple blouse and tight trousers. In her hand however, which was resting against her hip, propped up by one finger through her belt loop, was a gun. A cold, steel gun and the girl was looking right at him. John gulped.

“Of course not.” Paul assured and rose from his seat. “Come on John, let’s go.”

Brian and George stood too and Brian led the way to the back of the bar where there was a door which took them to a narrow staircase and then into an entirely wooden decorated office. There was a nice warming fireplace in one corner, a big wooden desk in the middle of the room with bookcases behind it. Two robust armchairs stood in front of the desk and George immediately settled into one of them. He had been here before, John noted.

Paul too settled into a chair, John stood by the side until he was urged on by a look from Paul. He sighed and walked to the chair. If Paul thought he was going to sit on his lap during this he was incredibly stupid and – right. John dearly wanted to snuggle up in Paul’s lap and hide away from the fact that he was about to become a criminal. But no, Paul motioned for him to sit down on the armrest and John did as told as Brian took his own seat behind his desk.

“Well boys.” Brian started. “The question still stand, I can assure you that the pay will be good and you’ll earn 80 % of all of your income. As well as hospital bills will be paid by me if necessary.”

“How much are we expected to earn?” Paul asked.

“That depends on what you do, but the pay will be weekly.” Brian said. “And the better you perform the more money you will receive.”

Paul sat quietly for a few moments, contemplating the offer. He had stuck his finger to his mouth and was biting at the skin idly. George was unreadable and was staring out of the darkened window.

“We’ll take it.” Paul then decided.

“Paul…” John tried. “This is not…”

“Do you have any better ideas John?” Paul suddenly bit. He sounded a bit tired, John thought. Probably from the bite but maybe it was something else. “I can play my guitar all I want now but what will I do when it gets too cold and people don’t want to listen anymore? I can hardly scrape up enough for food as it is and with you paying off the rent and electricity bill and George being without work. How do you suspect us to make it through? We’ll be out on the street in no time. Want that to happen?”

Paul’s eyes shifted over to George who was staring down at his hands, looking obnoxiously small. John knew exactly what Paul wanted to get across. George was way too young to be thrown out onto the streets again. He hadn’t had a chance to be a kid yet and Paul desperately wanted to let him be young, not needing to worry about things such as where they were going to sleep that night, if they’d wake up the next morning again and if there would be food to be eaten during the day.

“Fine.” John finally said with a sigh. “I’ll do it.”

Brian smiled kindly again and John briefly considered punching him for doing so but decided against it. The fucker probably had spies all around. The man pulled out a contract, a very formal one with a seal and everything. Brian’s name was already signed on there as he passed the paper to the boys. Paul wrote his name on first in nice curvy letters but not before reading it through not once but twice. Then George who wrote like crow but at least it was readable. John just signed his name without looking. He didn’t need to know what he was selling himself out for. Now he just wanted to drink his sorrows away and get laid. What if he could pick up the bird at the bar who had a gun? That’d be a hot night for sure.

They said their polite thank yous and goodbyes before heading out of the office. George asked them if they wanted to take a drink, John declined. Complaining about a headache. George shrugged and walked them outside, heading back for the elevators.

John couldn’t be bothered with looking around. He’d seen it all and now he was just tired, willing to go home and hit the hay as soon as possible. Paul was giving him concerned looks from the corner of his eye. John didn’t care. He wished Paul would stop worrying but at the same time not, he liked the boy’s attention. George was walking in front of them, hands deep inside of his pockets and head hung lightly. He looked so small and John got a sudden urge to grab for him, hold him and protect him against the world outside. He knew George looked up to him, he had seen it and the fact that George would do anything for him didn’t help the cause. John found it cute, George was cute.

They reached the elevators and walked inside, heading home.

 

George and John kicked off their shoes the moment they stepped through the door, throwing them aside along with their jackets. John instantly walked into the bedroom and fell face-first onto the bed, not bothering with brushing his teeth. Paul would probably scold him but fuck it. John flopped over onto his back, staring at the ceiling as he started undoing his belt. He lazily kicked off his jeans and let them land in a heap on the floor. He kept his tshirt on as well as his boxers and socks. The room was god damn cold but hopefully Paul would come and heat him up soon enough.

Paul did come trudging in, by then John was half asleep, drooling lightly into the pillow. When he heard Paul enter however he scooted to the side to make place for Paul who came crawling into bed with him. They settled into a comfortable position quickly with John resting on Paul’s chest, strong arms wrapped around his waist, just like last night. He hummed at the warmth Paul was radiating and curled closer, his legs seeking the warmth of Paul’s.

“We should get a bigger bed.” Paul mumbled. His thumb was rubbing firm circles into John’s hipbone and the older wanted to purr at the feeling. “Feels terrible, leaving George out in the living room.”

“Yeah.” John mumbled. His stomach twisted a little at the thought of George, all alone on the couch. Probably cold as well, poor thing. “A double bed.”

“Let’s get a new jar then.” Paul said and John nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for being patient, I'm slow at updating :c

Two days passed without anything in particular happening. It wasn’t until Paul was sitting with George splayed out across his lap, guitar on his knee and a leather cap in front of him, which he had borrowed from John. George had eaten last night and allowed himself to be spelled to sleep, so he was happily dozing off in the warmth, head shaded by the guitar. 

Paul was playing Black Bird, a song he had written himself a while back. John had told him it was good so he decided to play it on the street. 

The skies were blue today, with very few clouds. The trees around the town square were bright green, wet from last night’s rain and seeming to shimmer in the sun. Kids and their parents were out and about. School was out now and the kids were celebrating their newfound freedom. 

Right now however the bright sun was blocked by a shadow. Paul looked up, strumming gently on the guitar strings as he came to face a really young boy, probably around George’s age or younger, probably younger. His cheeks were still round from baby fat and his eyes were sparkling. Paul would have thought him to be a normal kid if it weren’t for the fact that he kept twitching his nose and his head oddly. 

“Paul?” He spoke quietly. 

“Yes, that’s me.” Paul answered, still playing so George would stay asleep. He couldn’t focus on talking to someone else and keep George under his spell without playing music. 

“Mr. Epstein s-sent me.” The boy said. “He’s calling you to a meeting at The C-Cavern. One o’clock.” 

“Thank you.” Paul said and the boy scurried off, disappearing down the street. 

He stopped playing for a few moments to look down at George, briefly wondering if they should head back home to make lunch. They had made enough money already and they had been out for more than two hours. Paul made up his mind and gently put the guitar aside. He woke George up, watching as he stirred and rubbed at his eyes. He helped the boy put his sunglasses on and then started gathering all their profits for the day. 

“We are meeting Brian today.” Paul then announced as George got to his feet, taking the money from Paul and stuffing it down his pockets. “Some kid came by and told me.”

“Maybe we’ll meet the two we are going to work with.” George said and started walking with Paul once he had strapped the guitar onto his back. “I hope they are decent” 

“So do I.” Paul replied. “I also hope that John won’t make a fuss. I was afraid that they were going to kill him at the bar.” 

George hummed in reply as they made their way back towards the apartment. 

 

John got out of work at half past four. He put down the book he had been reading, some odd love story. He didn’t usually like reading romance but this one was rather good. It was a 1400th century story about a prince who met a gypsy girl and they fell in love. It reminded him lightly about his and Paul’s relationship in a way. That he was this normal boy and had met a magical girl who put a spell on him, which in this case was Paul. Not that Paul was a girl, they had already had that argument and settled on John being the wife in the relationship, not that there was one that passed the friendly state. John didn’t want it to, right? 

He needed to get his mind of George and Paul for a while so he had decided to hit the pubs, pubs which weren’t filled with the most curious of creatures, just normal boring drunkards and pretty birds. Because John Lennon was going to get laid and to his help he had the very trust worthy Pete Shotton. 

Pete met him up outside the book shop and immediately started chatting about this new place down by the docks. It was a strip club but they decided to find a pub first since John had cash to spare for both food and some drinks and one did not wander in sober to a strip club. 

They entered the smoky environment of the pub with happy grins on their faces, excited for their lads’ night out. They quickly found a booth and ordered in food and drinks for themselves. John found his mind drifting away from all that had happened in the last few days, away from magic, underground clubs, cities, love troubles and queer feelings. Pete was easy to talk too and they reminisced about school and all the shit they used to get up to. 

After a good meal and about tree beers and a glass of scotch their cheeks had heated up properly and John had entered the ‘Lennon giggle zone’. They made their way out of the pub, down the streets until they reached the docks and the new strip club. It was called the ‘Devil zone’. What a fitting name, John grinned and walked inside with Pete in a tow. The atmosphere inside was just what you would expect, heavy with alcohol, smoke and pot. Musky from sweat and packed with people. There was a stage with two poles on as well as countless doors leading back to more private rooms. 

Immediately Pete grabbed John’s wrist and tugged him over to the stage. They sat down by a table close to one of the poles and waited for the performance to begin. Not soon after they had sat down they were attended by a round faced, black haired girl. She had almond shaped eyes and fluttered at them with her eyelashes as she bent down more than necessary to take their orders, letting them stare right down her light blouse. Pete stuttered out something and John said that he’d have the same as him. 

The girl left them alone but John couldn’t help but look after her. And he couldn’t help but scoot his chair back when she came back with their drinks. She got the memo, obviously having worked here for a long time and settled into his lap, rotating her hips in motion with the music. 

John let a hefty breath escape his lips and he looked up at her, those round cheeks, cute demeanour and almond eyes, dark eyes. Paul. Oh god Paul, she looked like Paul. Suddenly he felt himself push her off and get out of his chair. This was not alright, he had Paul. She looked up at him from where she had braced herself against the table, eyes wide and frightened. John felt his heart rush with adrenaline, the club seemed to have stopped and everyone was looking at him. Like in the club when some girl had held a gun against him. He needed to get away, needed to get home. He couldn’t do this. 

He bolted out of the club. Someone was yelling his name, Pete maybe, probably. But he couldn’t care. He needed to get home, to Paul. He ran down the streets, the sun was setting now, it was late. He hadn’t told Paul he was going out. He was so dumb! 

His body suddenly stopped with force, having run into something, or someone. John didn’t care, he scrambled to his feet, ready to run off again when this someone grabbed his jacket, stopping him and snapping him out of his trance. 

“John! Calm down!” George, it was George. What was George doing here? “John, you’re breathing up a storm, you have to calm down!” 

John let George guide him down from the high he didn’t realise that he was having until his eyes could focus on George in front of him. His lips were stained crimson red from blood and his hair was a right mess. Still he looked dead serious as usual with a slight hint of worry as he looked up to his older peer. 

“George.” He breathed. 

“Yeah, I’m here. God, your breath stinks! Have you been drinking?” George said and laid one of John’s arms over his shoulders. “Let’s get you home, Paul is worried sick about you.” 

John bit his lip and held onto George, letting him guide him home. 

 

Paul was waiting on the couch, biting on the skin of his fingers, hoping that he’d here the door open. John hadn’t come home after work like he was expected to. Oh he was going to be so angry with John when he got home! They had things to do, places to be! Oh he was going to be furious -

The door clicked open and Paul jumped up, worry seeping into his veins. He hurried out into the hallway to see John leaning heavily on George. The younger lad looked like he would buckle any second under his weight so Paul scurried over to help, wrapping his arms around John’s waist and letting him lean on him. Quickly, he shifted his grip and picked John up bridle style. Paul carried him into the bedroom and settled him down on the bed. It reminded him a lot of when they first moved in and John had been god awfully sick. Now he was probably drunk. Paul could smell it on him. George made his way into the bedroom and sat down on the foot of the bed. He took his time to look around the small room since he wasn’t too used to spending time in here. 

“John, I don’t mind you drinking but could you please tell us beforehand?” Paul pleaded as he shredded John of his leather jacket and put it aside, fussing about the boy like a loving mother. “Brian wants us tonight, and you need to sober up!” 

John grunted in response. 

“Cold shower?” George suggested. “We have about two hours to get him ready, should be enough, right?”

“Right.” Paul replied and put an arm behind John’s back, helping him sit up. “Come on Johnny, shower!” 

John grunted again and leaned heavily on Paul, causing him to sigh and then almost lift him to his feet. John draped himself into Paul’s arms, enjoying the feeling of having him close. He liked being the centre of Paul’s and George’s attention.

“Now you are just faking it.” Paul huffed and practically dragged John towards the bathroom. He pushed him inside of the small room and crossed his arms. “Take a cold shower, try to not slip and crack your head open.” 

“Aren-Aren’t you going to help me?” John suggested with an eyebrow wiggle, even in his drunken state he could pick up on Paul blushing and he grinned. 

“I think you are capable of showering yourself.” Paul said quickly and closed the door. He rubbed at his face and walked towards the couch. Why did John have to be so cheeky? Someday Paul just knew that there would be a situation about that. Now however he had escaped, even though he’d love to help John shower. Get his hands on those strong thighs and firm butt, rub the skin with soap until he was all sudsy and glistening. Work his fingers through that thick auburn hair, scrubbing it with the little shampoo they had and rinsing it out. Oh lord, what Paul wouldn’t give to get that… But also, George’s smaller frame pressed against John’s, skinny hands working on lathering John’s body with a bar of soap until John had enough and wrapped George up in his arms, holding him close and pressing their lips together. 

Paul shook his head to will these thoughts away. They had become a rather normal occurrence for him. Thoughts of John and George, sometimes just one of them but a lot of times them two together. He had even had dreams about it! My, he was messed up. Paul shrunk into the sofa, wanting it to eat him up in order for him to escape the mess that was his life. He reached up to rub at his face before looking into the kitchen. George had only recently learnt how to turn on the stove and boil water in a kettle. It had been two years since he had been home and he had been rather little when his family had to escape and he was left on the streets, thus rendering him useless when it came to tasks involving the kitchen or any kind of electronics what so ever. The only thing he could really use was the record player but he didn’t dare to touch that anyway in fear of John’s wrath. 

The kettle signalled that the water was ready with the usual sharp whistle noise and George pulled it off the stove. He poured hot water into three separate mugs before putting the kettle aside and grabbing the box with teabags. He put one in each mug and walked out to Paul with two mugs. He sat down next to Paul as close as humanly possible and cradled the mug between his hands. George liked to be close as often as he could, this was a great example of one of those occurrences. 

“I was thinking we could go a little earlier.” Paul said, making George look up from where he was carefully sipping on his tea. “And check out the underground a bit. Me and John have never really been around there much, you know.” 

“Yeah.” George said into his mug and curled up a bit, putting his socked feet onto the sofa cushions. Paul studied him as he turned into a gloomy little cloud, his brows lowering and him curling in on himself the way he did when he was displeased with the world. It was oddly adorable, just like everything else the little lad did, but at the same time Paul couldn’t help but wonder why George had decided to be gloomy. Sadly, he did not get to question his mood as John stepped out from his shower. His hair was wet and slicked back to dry and he was dressed in a simple striped tshirt and jeans, no shoes or socks. He swung by the kitchen to get his mug of tea before squeezing down with George and Paul on the couch, tucking his feet in under George’s thigh. He seemed to have sobered up quite a bit by now thankfully as he started to drink his tea.

“What do you say John? Heading to the underground earlier to look around a bit? They sell potion brewing stuff and stuff for magic.” Paul suggested. John pretended to think about it, not wanting to show immediate excitement, which was what he was feeling. 

“Okay, sounds good.” John nodded to press his own agreement. 

 

And so it was decided and 40 minutes later when they had forced John to drink two more glasses of cold water and make sure that he was mostly sober, they had made their way down the underground again. George had picked the lock in the door, Paul had guided John down the stairs and they had taken the elevator down, down into the ground.

Once again they stepped out of the elevator, just the three of them and John took a deep breath, devouring the sharp smell of unfamiliar scents. There was just as much commerce as last time and almost more people than before. John’s eyes immediately scouted the place for any curious figures. Most of them were humanoids, wondering about on their feet or all fours. He saw a little girl skip by, dark haired and mocha skinned with thick pig tails. She was dressed in the most adorable sundress and John would have thought nothing off her if she didn’t turn around and John noticed the girl had four eyes etched into her face and a wide mouth full of teeth, some sticking out to poke at her lips. John gulped as the girl passed them, running off to join her parents. 

“Come on, John.” Paul tugged him into action, one hand wrapped around his wrist loosely. 

John let himself be led as they followed George away from the elevators and further into the city. 

“Where do you want to go first?” George asked once they were mostly out of earshot. 

“I don’t have much cash.” John said. “Wherever is cheap.” 

“Don’t worry about that, I still have some.” Paul said and dug deep into his pockets to fish out a bundle of coins. He dropped them into John’s palms. “I want cigarettes.” 

“There’s a corner shop further up ahead that sells good cigarettes.” George replied and pointed over his shoulder towards the store with his thumb. 

The boys nodded and followed their guide to the shop. It was a robust looking thing, built in a Georgian style. The second floor was hanging out over the street slightly, supported by two thick steel poles fastened into the ground. The shop window was barred and there was a flickering neon light telling them that the shop was open twenty four hours a day. Without missing a beat, George stepped through the doors to the shop, John and Paul were quickly on his heels, not wanting to be left behind. The inside of the shop was dimly lit. At first John couldn’t tell where the light was coming from as there was no actual lamp in the room but then his eyes caught sight of a floating orb on the desk emitting a cold light. Behind the disk a woman was sat. She had her dirty feet kicked up on the counter and was leant back against her chair, reading the paper. John averted his eyes from her and looked to where George was going, noting that he was headed for a shelf filled with cigarettes and powders. Paul followed him, looking through all the packets and different kinds whilst John walked over to a section filled with freezers to look at various types of animal parts and intestines. 

“These are the ones I use.” George said as he picked up what looked to be an ordinary packet of Marlborough cigarettes. The logo was on the packet and everything, it was only when the packet was opened that you noticed the difference. The paper rolled around the tobacco wasn’t its usual completely white. The top half of the cigarettes were purple. “There are other ones, like cinnamon and coffee. Mould wine, apple pie. The list goes on.” 

Paul looked through the rows, his lower lip slipping into his mouth to chew on as he tried to figure out what kind of cigarette he wanted. Cinnamon and coffee sounded really nice. Apple pie too, but he wasn’t so sure that he wanted cigarettes to taste of apple pie. He settled on buying cinnamon and coffee cigarettes. The cigarettes were brown tipped and a little longer than George’s. 

“John?” He asked and the older boy looked back from where he was going through boxes of – whatever - Paul wasn’t quite sure what it was he was looking at. “Cigarettes?” 

He waved the packet he was holding and John swaggered over to them. He took one look among the different little boxes before he settled on apple pie. Typical, John had such a sweet tooth, it was ridiculous. Paul gathered all the packets, since George bought an extra one too and walked to the cashier. She lowered her newspaper when she heard him come closer. She had large fangs sticking out of the corner of her mouth and a large beard along with a humongous eyebrow, note the singular form. If it weren’t for her low cut top, exposing most of her breasts, Paul would have mistaken her for a woman. He handed her a few coins to pay for the cigarettes and she nodded, pushing them down the pockets on her leather trousers. She then covered her face with the newspaper again. Paul couldn’t help but read the back of it. Killer on the loose on Liverpool’s streets, 14 victims in the last month. 

“Is there a killer?” He found himself asking. 

The girl looked up from what she was reading and studied him with her yellow, darkened eyes. She then smacked the gum in her mouth and nodded. 

“Yes, a serial killer in fact, otherwise they wouldn’t take note of it.” The girl replied. “Our authorities are also looking into it, just in case it might be one of us. Sheesh, it wouldn’t surprise me. Serves them right to get killed, bloody humans, eh?” 

Paul shifted his eyes over to John who stilled at her words. The older boy had stiffened up, hand on the door handle. 

“I guess.” Paul let out. “What identifies this serial killer then? I mean, how do they now it’s a serial killer and not just some kind of mafia thing?” 

“It might be a mafia but the thing about the victims is that they are killed the exact same way. They get hung from their feet with their throat sliced open, tongue pulled out through the wound.” She said, marking her words with the slick sound of her chewing gum. It sounded so casual, falling from her lips whilst it made a cold shiver run down Paul’s spine. 

“Might be the mafia.” Paul muttered quickly. “Well, it’s been nice chatting to you. Good bye, have a good night!” 

He quickly hurried out with his friends, wanting to escape from the gum chewing girl. He had gone a little sick and quickly tugged up his cigarettes, needing something to soothe him, John did the same in silence, pulling up a red edged cigarette and lighting it. He took a deep breath and then let the bright ruby coloured smoke pass his lips. He hummed appreciatively and leaned up against the wall, gazing out at the street. 

 

“You alright?” He then asked Paul, glancing over at where he was trying to light his cigarette with trembling fingers. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just serial killers, you know?” Paul managed to light his cigarette and took in a lung fill of smoke, letting it settle in his chest. “Creeps me out a bit.” 

“He’s only killing humans.” George butted in, pushing his hands deep into his pockets and staring out at the streets. The clubs further ahead were starting to boom with music. It was Friday after all and George would be more worried if the streets stayed quiet rather than bustling with life and music. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“It does!” John argued. “That’s people, I’m one of them.” 

“You are of witch kind.” Paul said calmingly. “This is your people.” 

John huffed and looked around. He didn’t fit in here, he felt like a stranger, not that he felt much better in normal Liverpool. He would always be a stranger, was that his destiny? To never belong?

“I think we should head up to Brian, it’s getting late.” Paul broke the silence which had settled over the three boys. The two others nodded in unison and George took the lead over to The Cavern. 

 

Once inside, John headed for the bar immediately. He looked up and tried to read the menu, which was hard without his glasses, thankfully Paul came to his rescue. He slid onto the stool next to him and ordered two smokebreathers, whatever that was, John didn’t know. He was pretty sure that Paul didn’t either. Maybe they should have asked George. 

They should definitely asked George about the drinks. What they ended up getting was two little shot glasses with a two coloured liquid inside and a dirty look from the bartender. The top half of the drink was a muddy mocha whilst the bottom half was butterscotch coloured. Paul and John shared an odd look and a shrug before chugging the glasses back, letting the alcohol slide down their throats, only that it apparently wasn’t just alcohol, there was something akin to chili inside. 

John felt his ears and face heat up, his eyes got teary and he grabbed onto Paul’s shoulder, digging his fingertips into his hardened muscles. Paul gripped at the edges of the table, feeling the liquid burn inside of his body, welling up inside of him, through his throat, into his mouth and he had to burp and out came a burp along with a dusty cloud of smoke. John found himself doing the same and coughed up smoke, apparently produced by the alcohol. 

“I need water.” Paul hissed and John could only nod. 

They stumbled out of their stools, John holding onto Paul for dear life as they made it into the bathroom. One day they would look back on this day and laugh at how stupid they had been, right now though with their mouths and intestines burning from the harsh alcohol and smoke, they couldn’t laugh. They could only dip their heads in under the faucets in the sinks - not minding the dirty environment - and sticking their tongues out into the cold spray of water. Both drank greedily, savouring every cold drop of water running down their throats. Never had water tasted so magically in their entire life. 

Paul looked up into the mirror, staring at John’s reflection. He was splashing water into his face, letting it drop down from his hair and nose. 

“What the fuck, Paul?” John breathed with a small chuckle before coughing up another little burst of smoke. 

“I don’t know.” Paul said with a grin. “I-I’ve never heard of these drinks before.” 

“You-You’ve got something –“ John had turned his gaze towards Paul and reached out for his face. Paul stilled, not daring to move as John’s warm hand landed on his cheek. His thumb moved over the corner of Paul’s mouth, wiping away a thick droplet of the alcoholic beverage they had drunk. His touch lingered for a heartbeat too long before it was gone and Paul gulped. He wanted John’s hands back on him, everywhere and god he couldn’t help himself. “Come on, Paulie, let’s go…” 

Paul grabbed John’s wrist as he turned to leave, the touch burning his hand. John turned towards him with a light frown which disappeared when he saw the look on Paul’s face. 

“John, I-“ 

He moved closer, putting a hand on John’s shoulder. The older boy stood unmoving, feet shackled to the floor with an invisible force. His eyes slipped down to Paul’s lips, they were hot red from the alcohol, slightly parted. Was this really happening? His senses were running wild and all he could hear was his own pounding heartbeat. 

Suddenly, Paul tugged him towards his body, wrapped an arm around him and bent him over the sink. John’s eyes widened and he braced himself with his hands. This was happening really fucking fast! 

The door opened, Paul’s hands were on his back, rubbing harsh circles and it clicked. John let out a loud retching sound, gripping the dirty sink and staring down at the metal drain. He couldn’t see whoever had entered and he hoped to god that whoever it was hadn’t seen what happened. 

“Paul?” The voice of whoever had stepped in said. “McCartney?” 

“Who are you?” Paul’s hand didn’t leave his back but it had stilled, his focus having drifted from soothing his “drunken antics” to the intruder. 

“I’m Stuart.” The person greeted.” Brian is looking for you, he’s not very happy.”


End file.
